


Delta Kappa Epsilon

by tuneinmymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuneinmymind/pseuds/tuneinmymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are best friends, freshman in college, and rushing, attempting to be chosen to be admitted into the most prestigious frat at their college, Delta Kappa Epsilon. Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, and Niall Horan are seniors, leading the frat with an unbreakable authority. Zarry. Lilo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Remember, we don’t really know each other.”

“I _know_ , you’ve only reminded me about- hmm- I dunno, fifty times in the past two minutes?” Harry rolled his eyes at the feather haired boy sitting across from him, leaning back against the hard, plastic cafeteria seats.

It was lunchtime, and the busiest hour of lunch at that, so the hall was bustling with students, all rushing to eat before class or club meetings. One would think college would be less busy than high school because there were more free hours of the day, but it seemed, university life was even busier.

“I just, I really want to be invited, and it would make it _that much better_ if you were with me, Haz. We could actually be brothers!” Louis exclaimed, his nervousness shining through his movements as he bounced on the edge of his seat, picking through a bowl of pasta with his fork clutched tightly in his hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry responded absentmindedly, glancing around the room, his eyes catching on a girl with whom shared several of his classes, and well, damn, if her arse didn’t look good in those navy jeans. “I still don’t get why we have to pretend not to know each other though? I mean, they’re gonna ask us where we’re from probably and when we’re from the same town it’ll be obvious we know each other.”

“But they won’t know we know each other _well_. Look, Haz. There’s going to be challenges and there’s probably going to be hazing. The older brothers will use _any_ weakness against us, and if they knew how much you meant to me, well, I don’t think I could handle them using that against me.”

Louis’ serious statement, as well as the serious gaze he was giving the younger boy, caught Harry’s attention, pulling it away from any attractive specimen until cerulean orbs locked with forest green, Harry’s lips turning upward into a cheeky smirk.

“Aww, is BooBear worried about his Hazza?”

Louis flushed deep scarlet, both at the nickname and Harry’s blatant reference to the older boy’s show of affection, and he flicked a pale, bow-tied pasta at the curly-haired boy, muttering a “shuddup” at his best friend who he’s known since the age of two, when they bonded over swings, slides, and unintelligible babbling.

Harry laughed as he batted down the piece of pasta as it flew toward his head, watching affectionately as Louis muttered under his breath about Harry being “a fucking twat” and “why do I even put up with you?” before focusing back on his uneaten plate of pasta, scarfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

In all honesty, and if the stampede in his stomach was any indicator, Harry was quiet nervous, regardless of the cool exterior he had managed to maintain all day.

He wasn’t nervous for Louis at all, for his best friend had a way with words and a way with people that Harry had never quite been able to match. No, Harry was more nervous for himself; he had always been the quieter of the pair, one who just tagged along for the ride, occasionally adding a suggestion or comment, but for the most part, the follower. In this case, though, he would have to make it on his own, something he had never done before because previously he had always had Louis leading him along.

And the thought of Louis being accepted to the frat, and him being left behind was terrifying, so, in that moment, Harry made a vow to himself that he would do absolutely _anything_ to ensure a spot beside Louis in the most prestigious frat at their college.

Delta Kappa Epsilon.

Everyone had heard the stories, everyone knew who they were, everyone watched the brothers of the Delta Kappa Epsilon under high scrutiny, keeping an eye on just what they were doing because if they did it, well, everyone else should too. Delta Kappa Epsilon was infamous for its parties and events, the girls and the booze, and most prominent for Harry at the moment, just how hard it was to be accepted.

Why Louis had to choose the most prestigious frat, Harry still had no idea. Well, okay, he had some sort of idea, but still, wasn’t too thrilled with rushing into the hardest frat at school. But Louis wanted to, and if Louis wanted to, Harry wanted to, because if Louis was happy, then Harry was as well.

“Remember, we don’t really know each other.”

Harry rolled his eyes again at Louis, responding the same way he had for the past fifty or so times, “I _know_.”

~O~

“Fuck! Liam! What the hell was that for?” Zayn Malik rubbed his bicep, wincing as he tried to rid himself of the oncoming dead arm from Liam’s hard punch.

The raven-haired boy was sprawled out on the couch, his legs hanging off the end, head resting on the opposite arm. He had been lazily texting on a white iPhone, half watching a football game in between messages until Liam blocked his viewed, snatched his phone from his hands, and proceeded to smack him on the arm.

“I told you an hour ago to be ready by three, and it’s currently two-fifty five.”

Zayn tried to contain the laughter bubbling deep in his stomach as Liam glared at him, taking in his current state of dress, or rather undress, with big brown eyes, much resembling the look of a sad puppy.

Liam heaved an angry sigh as Zayn failed to contain a smile, and proceeded to lean over and roll the boy off of the couch.

“Hey!” Zayn protested indignantly, falling to the ground with a _thump_ , nearly taking out Liam as he fell.

“Get your lazy arse in the shower. You have two minutes to wash up and one to dress,” Liam commanded, pointing toward the far end of the house where the bathroom was located, his bare arms rippling with tan, toned muscle as they sat outside of his tank.

“But Daaaad. It takes _at least_ five minutes to gel my quiff,” Zayn protested, teasing the other boy, who didn’t seem the least bit amused as his eyes narrowed angrily, lips pursing in what Zayn supposed was Liam’s version of a scary face.

“Go!”

***

It really had taken Zayn five minutes to do his hair, and added to his ten minute shower and extra two minutes deciding what to wear, he was late as he strolled out of the house and around the side, feet hitting carefully trimmed grass.

He didn’t care, though, and while Liam had threatened him not to be late, it didn’t matter much at all because he was one of the oldest brothers in Delta Kappa Epsilon, so if anyone tried to give him shit for being late, well, he’d simply pull seniority and tell them to fuck off.

He scanned the crowd on the lawn, noticing how many guys were sprawled around, waiting for instruction, until he found Liam standing closely next to their other best friend, Niall Horan. He sauntered over to the pair, slapping the blonde on the back before pinching Liam’s cheeks cheekily.

“Hello pumpkin,” he greeted, smiling widely. This was his element, being in the spotlight of a handful of desperate lads, all wanting to be where he was within the frat. “Feeling better after your tantrum?”

Liam huffed, ignoring Zayn’s teasing as he turned to the crowd of rushers, gaining their attention with a simple wave of his arm and pointed look.

As Liam and Niall began the first rushing ritual, commanding the boys to separate into groups of five, Zayn took the chance to look over the new recruits. For the most part, none of the lads stood out; their outfits similar as they attempted to fit in; their faces locked in the same nervous haze. He looked from face to face, cataloguing which ones would make it and which ones would fail just from one glance at their faces. Only three boys caught his attention more than the rest.

The first was slighter in build, hips wider than most and accentuated with tight, tan chinos. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, skin golden, and his eyes flashed with mischief, a pert smile upturned on bright pink lips. Blue eyes met Zayn’s, and the raven-haired boy nodded, acknowledging the lad, who he felt would be a good partner in crime. None of the other boys had met his gaze, yet, so when this boy did, Zayn noted it.

The next boy was orange- orange hair, orange skin, or pale red skin (not that Zayn really cared too much), orange shirt. The only things _not_ orange about the boy were his navy jeans, light tan flip-flops, and bright blue eyes. Aside from the obvious color that stood out from the crowd, the fire-haired lad stood out because of what he was doing with his hands. They were clasped in front of his body, one holding the other, seemingly moving around, fingers flicking in different directions. To the untrained eye, it looked as if the boy was simply nervous and tangling his fingers together, but Zayn realized he was practicing chords. A guitar player, Zayn smiled at the thought, glad to see a musician in the crowd.

Not many people realized it, but although Delta Kappa Epsilon was well-known for its killer parties and social life, the boys of the frat were quite well rounded, exceeding in athletics as well as academics.

None of the brothers had below a 3.7 GPA, and many were recognized by their professors as some of the best students.

Liam played football, having started as a freshman and worked his way up to captain and star quarterback, leading their team through an almost undefeated season the previous year.

Niall, although loud and boisterous with his friends, was a softy whenever he held a guitar in his hands, callused fingers moving along the strings with so much emotion that Zayn found himself aching inside occasionally from the melodies the blonde played.

And Zayn, well, as much as he was teased for it, the boys constantly making comments about how he was vain, Zayn was an artist- a fashion designer, to be precise. This explained his constant state of being well-dressed, as well as how he could take hours on end to prepare for social outings. What people didn’t understand about his major, though, was that it wasn’t just the clothes, or the models he was able to meet, but rather, the actual art that came with the designing. He loved drawing, often partaking in the activity outside of his class projects, and being able to create an outfit on paper, and then transfer it into a real life object, well, there was nothing he loved more.

Which is why, being a fashion design major, the first thing he noticed about the third boy who caught his attention was just how _presentable_ the lad looked. He wasn’t dressed as many of the other boys were, and while Zayn knew it was a risky move, he was taken aback with the confidence it seemed to portray. The lad was wearing a blue plaid shirt, the buttons falling open on his chest, revealing hard pecs that Zayn supposed led to a toned stomach, jeans that hung off of slim hips, and white converse. Shiny, silver RayBans covered his eyes, hiding any obvious expression from his face. The outfit overall was simple, yet affective, and Zayn was caught up in just how _beautiful_ this lad was. Curly hair was pushed to the side of his head, soft looking strands catching under the sunlight in copious chocolate curls, and he stood tall, legs spread in a V-formation, hands clasped behind his back. This lad seemed quieter, more reserved than the rest, almost as if he was skeptical of the entire ordeal of rushing, but if anything was indicated from the strong purse of his lips, Zayn figured it was determination.

 _Yes,_ Zayn thought, eyes flitting between the three boys who caught his attention, _these three will do quite nicely._

He was broken from his thoughts, though, as Niall clapped him on the shoulder, fingers digging into his muscle comfortably before he whispered in the raven-haired boys’ ear.

“Let the fun begin.”

~O~


	2. The First Challenge

“Did I say you could talk?” Liam shouted over the buzz of murmuring, and the group of boys immediately silenced under his questioning command. A nervous unease spread throughout and Zayn had to hold back a smile, knowing how hard it was to actually make Liam mad (the boy was just _too nice_ ) and how scared the rushers must be in that moment. Liam, however, enjoyed keeping the lads on their toes, so he kept his face serious, a trick he learned from football.

“Now, obviously, it isn’t easy getting into Delta Kappa Epsilon. Be prepared for the challenges. Be prepared for the competition. Be prepared for _anything_ ,” Liam spoke while pacing in front of the crowd, his long legs carrying him slowly back and forth, back and forth. “However, if you make it through, be prepared to make friendships that will last a life time. With that being said, your first challenge will start _today_. Niall?”

Liam stepped back, joining Zayn, who stood with his arms crossed in a way that accentuated his slim biceps and made them look bigger than the really were, and Niall took Liam’s previous place, commanding the attention of the group with a broad smile and a wave.

“So, how are ya doing today?”

There were a couples murmurs of “good” and “lovely” as the group glanced at each other, unsure how to react to the blonde-haired, smiling lad in front of them, until finally, one of the boys Zayn had noticed shouted out a little louder than the rest.

“The real question is how are _you_?”

The lad smirked cheekily, crossing his arms, causing Liam to nudge Zayn in the side as he stared at the tanned muscles bulging under a tight, striped shirt. The boy was clearly trying to push for a reaction from Niall, but he didn’t show any change in facial expression when Niall simply grinned wider, baby blue eyes unreadable.

“Oi. You,” Niall nodded toward the lad who had just spoken. “What’s your name?”

“Louis Tomlinson.”

Zayn was a bit tired of the scene at hand, and had he been focused on this Louis like everyone else seemed to be, he might have missed the curly-haired lad’s reaction to what was occurring. However, Zayn’s gaze _was_ drawn back to the boy he had noticed before as beautiful, and he didn’t miss the way the lad brought a hand to his face, hiding any expression under a large palm, seemingly…embarrassed?

Strange.

His attention was once again on Niall, though, as his brother began to speak once more, addressing Louis and using his introduction as a way to explain the first challenge.

“Well, Louis Tomlinson, how do you feel about clothing?”

It was easy to spot Louis’ confusion as his face scrunched up (in a way Liam would later describe as _simply adorable_ ) and his hand moved to scratch the back of his head. The other boys followed a similar pattern of confusion, and the slight hum of whispers began as Louis continued to think of a response.

Before long, he replied, “I like clothing, quite the online shopper if I do say.”

Niall had trouble containing his glee, cackling loudly, much the opposite of Liam, who would have just stared had he been the one about to explain. His laughing had the same effect, though, because the rushers fell silent, watching Niall with calculating gazes (most likely wondering what the fuck he was on like Zayn had when he first met the blonde boy).

“I apologize then, Louis, because this challenge may be a little difficult for you,” Niall looked away from the feather-haired lad, and began surveying the crowd with a wide smirk. “Now, the first challenge will differ for each of the three groups. The three of us- Liam, Zayn, and myself- will be moderating you for the next five days. Liam is in charge of group 1, I am in charge of group 2, and Zayn is in charge of group 3. However, this does not mean you are safe if you run into one of us and we are not your leader. So, in class, in the cafeteria, in your dorm, in the bathroom, _at any time_ in the next five days, we will be watching.”

Niall turned and gave a nod to Zayn, indicating the conclusion of his little speech, and Zayn took a steadying breath before stepping forward to address the crowd. No matter how many times he spoke in front of crowds, he still didn’t feel completely at ease. This time seemed even worse than usual, especially as the curly-haired lad gazed at him with an unwavering stare. It didn’t help that the beautiful boy who had caught his eye was glaringly in group 3- his group.

“This challenge is not particularly difficult. All we are asking you to do is go five days without one item of clothing.”

A collective sigh in relief rose among the boys at Zayn’s words, and Zayn raised his eyebrows in response, challenging them silently.

“However, _you_ do not get to choose this item of clothing.”

This elicited a groan, and Zayn bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. He did notice, however, that the curly-haired boy’s expression stayed completely blank the entire time, only once flickering over toward group 1.

“So, to make it easier to keep track of who can’t wear which piece of clothing, we put you in these three groups. Now, I’ll start with my group. Group 3 cannot wear a shirt. This means no shirt in the morning, afternoon, night, or at any time of the day. I don’t care what people say; I don’t care what professors say. _No shirt at any time_. Group 2,” Zayn continued, turning his body to address Niall’s group, including the red head, who was still moving his fingers across an imaginary guitar. “No pants or shorts. Same rules apply to you as well. This means that you’d better have some nice fucking boxers or briefs, perhaps it might do to purchase a dress or two. Group 1-“

“Sir?”

Zayn was cut off by the same lad as before- Louis- who stood ramrod straight, his arm extended into the air like a high school student asking to use the toilets.

“Yes, Louis?”

“This doesn’t apply to me as I’m in Group 1,” Zayn rolled his eyebrows at that, but motioned for the lad to continue, “but, for the sake of group 2, I was wondering, do footie pajamas count as pants or shorts?”

Zayn surveyed the boy, noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes and how his lips were constantly upturned in the beginnings of a cheeky smile, and he was vaguely reminded of himself at a younger age, although this lad was quite a bit more outgoing, seeing how Zayn was still somewhat reserved around strangers.

“That, Louis, is for Group 2 to try at their own risk,” Zayn effectively cut off the peals of laughter with an answer that did not really give a straight answer. “Now, Group 1. No underwear.”

The shocked faces of Group 1 indicated that they believed him to be joking, but as Zayn continued, they seemed to realize he was being neither facetious nor jocular.

“While this is the least obvious, a plus, it could also be seen as the most uncomfortable, a negative. So, now that you all know which item of clothing you will be living without for the next five days, take ‘em off lads.”

Niall’s laugh could be heard from across campus as one of the boy’s in group 1 asked, “Now?” only for Liam to confirm with a nod of his head that yes, they had to remove the indicated item of clothing in front of the entire crowd of rushing boys.

***

“Hey! What the fuck was that for?” Niall bellowed loudly, glaring at Zayn, who had just stolen a sandwich from Niall’s overflowing plate. Zayn didn’t reply, instead responding by taking a large bite from the turkey club and chewing dramatically until Niall simply laughed and began eating one of his other sandwiches.

Zayn swallowed in a large gulp and took a sip of water before turning his eyes back on the blonde, who was now munching away happily, humming what sounded like the beginning of Domino by Jessie J.

“So, what do you think of your group?” Zayn lowered his voice, if only to give them some semblance of privacy in the crowded cafeteria, and leaned his elbows on the table, feeling the crunch of a breadcrumb under his arm.

Niall shrugged, still chewing, and gave a half-assed, “I dunno. Haven’t really seen much of them yet. How about you?”

Zayn nodded in agreement, a blush rising on his dark cheeks as his thoughts automatically fell to the elusive curly-haired boy, who he yet to see so far. The challenge was just as much work for them as it was for the rushers, seeing how they had to make sure their groups were actually following the challenge. So, for the past three days, Niall, Zayn, and Liam had been attending classes in which the rushers were enrolled, and basically patrolling campus to make sure their group members were following the challenge. Zayn wanted to be able to say he hadn’t kept an extra look out for the soft looking brown curls, but he had been and it seemed that fate wanted to fuck with him, continuing to hide the beautiful boy from his path.

Thankfully, Niall didn’t ask what he was thinking so intently about, or why he was blushing, so he was able to finish his sandwich in peace, pushing away thoughts of the unknown lad in his group. He stood up, towering above Niall, who was still munching away at his diminishing pile of food.

“Well, mate, I gotta dip, need to talk to my professor before class.”

Niall only waved a piece of bread at him in farewell.

~O~

“It itches!”

Harry closed his eyes, allowing a smile to fall over his pink lips as he enjoyed the feeling of the damp grass against his calves and the slight zephyr that brushed his hair softly from his forehead. He could feel the heat of the sun prickling against his bare chest, the rays piercing his skin and pulling a light pink hue from his already red body.

“It’s not like you aren’t used to going commando, Lou. You rarely wear underwear anyway,” he commented, opening his eyes to watch his best friend squirm in his jeans melodramatically. The feather-haired boy had been complaining about his lack of underwear for the past hour or so as they sat on the grass in between classes, relishing the rare chance to relax.

“But that was _willingly_. I hate being forced into the state of commando,” Louis continued to whine, his hands adjusting his pants in a way that looked a lot like he was palming his dick through the material. Eventually he gave up, sprawling backwards into the grass in a mess of limbs, almost knocking Harry in multiple places with his clumsy movements.

“At least you aren’t getting burnt,” Harry spoke slowly as he turned to take a bottle from his backpack, squirting white liquid onto his hands before rubbing his chest until his pale skin was even paler, giving him the resemblance of a vampire. It was the third time he had applied sunscreen in the past three hours, and still, he could feel the itch of a burn. He could only imagine how much skin would be peeling off later. Good thing he had some aloe lotion in his dorm. However, he wasn’t complaining much, seeing how he had probably the easiest piece of clothing to go without. He rather liked being half naked, only meant he had less to take off later.

“Oi! Harry,!”

Harry looked up to see the blonde upperclassmen, Niall, strolling up to them, a sandwich and coke bottle in hand, alternating between eating and drinking as he approached. Out of the three older boys in the frat who he had really met, at least the ones who seemed to be running the whole rushing ordeal, Harry thought Niall was the most approachable, and he was almost disappointed to hear that Niall wasn’t his “leader” (although that feeling was quickly pushed aside when he had looked over the raven-haired boy). Niall was always smiling whenever Harry saw him, which was often over the past few days, so much so that the blonde had learned his name, hometown, and they even had lunch together (Niall sympathized over Harry’s burning chest and although Harry didn’t speak too much, he could see becoming close friends with the older lad).

“Hey Niall,” Harry’s voice lowered from the volume level he used with Louis, immediately feeling a little scared in Niall’s presence. It wasn’t that Niall was _scary_ , but rather, he had the power to take Louis away from him, and, well, that was the scariest thing Harry could imagine. Harry didn’t want to think about what would happen if Louis made it into DKE and he didn’t, but it seemed his thoughts always fell on this situation, and in return, brought his stress levels up quite a bit, causing his face to break out in uneven blotches of red bumps in the past couple of days.

Niall plopped down beside Harry, finishing off his sandwich with a gulp of soda and a load belch before he nodded to Louis, who hadn’t acknowledged his presence yet, still in a messy pile of flesh on the grass, his face turned up in a dramatic pout.

“What’s wrong with him?” Niall asked; his grin widening as Louis let out a groan, kicking his feet and letting them fall against the ground before covering his eyes and forehead from the sun with a tanned arm.

“My penile area is itchy,” Louis stated loudly, causing a couple passing students to glance over at the trio with wide eyes and whisper to their partners in hushed voices, probably about Louis’ crude statement. Niall’s returning laugh bellowed out across the lawn, rivaling Louis’ shout and pulling in just as many stares as the feather-haired boy had.

“Turn over,” Niall responded, and Louis did so without question, wanting to remove his face from the harsh rays of sunlight (he was always commenting on how his precious face couldn’t bear to be in the sun for _too long_ ). “Pull your pants down a bit so I can see the edge of your bare arse.”

At this, Louis snorted indignantly, not hesitating to lift his jeans off his bum, revealing two white cheeks and a crack, his bare skin lacking underwear of any type to cover it. Niall glanced quickly (Harry stared for a while, enjoying the contrast of tan skin against pale), and Louis held his pants off his bum for much longer than really necessary, hoping to receive some kind of reaction from either one of the lads with whom he was sitting.

“Good job, you guys are both passing the challenge,” Niall acknowledged Harry’s shirtless state, and Harry let out a sigh in relief, immediately feeling calmer with the knowledge that they were both making it through the first challenge, at least so far. With Niall’s statement he was finally able to relax around the blonde boy, and the three of them joked and horsed around until it was time for Harry to go to class about twenty minutes later, leaving Louis and Niall to wrestle around on the grass.

~O~

“Malik! Read the first sentence for me,” a stern voice broke through his daydream (a shame because it was just getting to the _good part_ ) and Zayn startled, eyes flashing from where they were idly placed on the hair of the girl in front of him down to the textbook he had open on his desk. He winced through the sentence, his French accent quite poor, and the entire class let out a sigh of relief when he finished. He was the only upperclassman in French 101 (no he wasn’t dumb, he had just finished Spanish the year before and could speak it fluently, hence why he was beginning a new language), and while he didn’t need another language to graduate, or even for his major (design), he rather liked the challenge which languages provided. Of course, he didn’t expect French pronunciations to be this fucking difficult.

“Try to, ah, use your nasal voice a bit more, Mr. Malik,” the professor instructed, and Zayn sunk down in his chair a little under his judgmental gaze (he wasn’t really judging, Zayn was just embarrassed). He disliked being bad at a subject, so much so that he often spent more time studying than any of his friends (they thought he was playing video games though and he never bothered correcting them), and there was something especially embarrassing about being bad at French in front of lower classmen. He had been attending freshman classes for the past couple days to make sure the rushers were following the challenge though, so he hadn’t been able to study as much as he would have liked.

“Mr. Styles, next two sentences please.”

Zayn winced to himself for whoever this Styles bloke was, feeling sorry for the lad who had to read two whole sentences. One was bad enough. However, he was sufficiently shocked when a clear, deep voice rang across the classroom, speaking the sentences with a perfect accent.

“Les principales industries de la France sont: l’automobile, la construction aeronautique et spatiale, les produits, chimiques, les produits pharmaceutiques, l’electronique, l’informatique et le tourisme. La France est un pionnier dans le domaine de recherché contre le cancer et la SIDA.”

Zayn turned in his seat as the lad reached the end of the second sentence only to see (much to his utter shock and pain, aka, pleasure) the curly-haired lad from his group. He was, of course, completely bare-chested, and Zayn sympathized for the red burn spreading across his otherwise pale skin. He felt the irony of the situation because it would just happen that of all times to see the beautiful boy whom he had just been daydreaming about, but also, the lad had to sit through his embarrassingly bad French, which was just his luck (not that he really cared too much, or at all…really…).

“Good job, Mr. Styles,” the professor praised, immediately calling on another student to answer a random question that really had nothing to do with what they were learning. Zayn’s eyes never left the curly-haired lad’s face, tracing over the contours and ridges of his nose and eyes and reveling in how soft his curls looked, and he didn’t even realize he was staring until the boy looked up, meeting Zayn’s gaze with a pair of startlingly green orbs. Zayn looked away quickly, unable to keep the eye lock as the intensity of the other boy’s gaze burned into him. He had never been looked at so deeply, it was almost as if he was gazing into Zayn’s soul, and yeah that sounded really fucking dumb and cheesy but he couldn’t think of any better way to describe it.

And, as the lecture continued (as well as Zayn’s inept stuttering whenever he was asked to read or answer a question), the raven-haired boy had a lot to think about, especially when it came down to the curly-haired lad sitting a few rows behind him.

~O~

“Shit,” Harry muttered, bending over outside the classroom to pick up the books he just dropped ungracefully on the floor. Other students rushed by him, off to other classes or to meet friends, and he fumbled to grab his textbooks and notebooks off the floor as their feet scurried around him. It wasn’t until most of the class had cleared past him that someone even bother to stop, and he was grateful when he saw a hand reaching out to pick up one of his notebooks and adding it to the pile he was creating.

“Thanks mate,” Harry’s voice rumbled deeply as he straightened out, coming face to face with none other than his DKE group leader, Zayn Malik. He had caught the older lad looking at him during class, and boiled it down to Zayn just making sure he was following the challenge, however, when they caught eyes at one point, the dark-skinned boy had looked away quickly, looking like a little kid caught with one hand in the cookie jar. To say he was a tad confused would be an understatement, but Harry figured that Zayn was just trying to see what he was like and if he would be a good addition to the frat by sitting in on French 101, which would explain his poor pronunciation during the class. While he had run into Niall often within the past couple of days, this was the first time he had even seen his own leader.

Zayn nodded out a “No problem” in response, his brown eyes flickering over Harry, who felt rather subconscious about his shirtless state for the first time, almost as if he wanted the older boy to approve of his bare chest and sculpted muscles. Harry took the chance to examine the older boy, taking in his clothing, which looked really fucking expensive, and hair, which was really fucking tall, and finally, back to his face, which was really fucking pretty with a strong jawline and prominent cheekbones.

Zayn was the first one to break the silence, effectively halting the simultaneous looking over that they were both doing with a few words.

“You’re in my group, right?”

Harry nodded, not quite trusting his voices (he really wasn’t good with talking to strangers, especially attractive blokes like Zayn), and Zayn nodded back (approvingly?), indicating with a sweeping arm motion that they should start walking.

It was strange for Harry to be walking with the older boy, not used to being in the company of many people other than, well, just Louis, and he kept quiet, only glancing over at Zayn occasionally in an attempt to gauge the other lad’s mood. He fell up blank though, for Zayn was exceptionally good at keeping his emotions from his face. It wasn’t until they had walked for a good distance that Zayn decided to speak again.

“What’s your name?”

Harry was a little surprised at the gruff voice with which Zayn spoke, used to hearing the raven-haired boy speak with a light, lilting, melodic voice (not that he had heard the lad speak _that_ many times), and his own voice was just as deep when he responded (it always went a little lower when he was nervous).

“Harry Styles.”

They fell back into silence, simply walking with each other, and Harry was glad to find that it was not an uncomfortable quiet, but rather, a…comfortable one. Which was new to him, especially because things tended to be rather loud with Louis, and this silence was welcomed, nice. He didn’t notice the inner battle that Zayn was going through (the older boy really wanted to start a conversation but didn’t know how), and he was quite content with his thoughts as they walked along.

 “Where did you learn-“

“Look who I found, Liam!” a loud, gleeful voice cut Zayn off as he finally spoke a few minutes later and Harry had a fleeting thought of how nice the older boy’s voice was, key word being fleeting, as Niall bounded up to the pair, throwing an arm around both of them as he wormed his way between their bodies. Liam joined the group a second later, giving Niall a reproachful look (for what Harry wasn’t quite sure) before turning to Harry with a welcoming smile.

“Hey Haz,” Niall bounced excitedly next to him as they walked, and Harry couldn’t contain the smile that broke out across his face at the blonde lad’s happy expression.

“Hey Nialler,” he responded, not realizing that they had gone from first names and half-acquaintances to nicknames in a mere couple of hours, and feeling quite comfortable in Niall’s presence. Yes, _comfortable_. He had finally pushed back his scared thoughts from earlier, accepting the fact that there was a possibility that Louis would make it in the frat and he wouldn’t. Besides, feeling comfortable with his potential frat brothers was a good sign, right?

He was so caught up in the warmth emanating from Niall’s body that he missed Zayn’s glare at the blonde, and another one of Liam’s warning looks, and it wasn’t until Niall was pulling his arm from where it had been resting on Harry’s shoulder that he even was aware of his surroundings. He did, however, feel the slap of Niall’s hand as the overly excited lad patted his burn with a firm hand, and he tried not to wince as his skin flamed up even hotter.

“So, how do you guys feel about some food?” Niall asked eagerly, still unaware of the pain flaring up on Harry’s skin where he had just hit as thoughts of food conquered his brain. Liam and Zayn half-sighed, half-laughed, giving Niall a look that indicated an inside joke Harry didn’t understand. Liam pulled Niall into his side, rubbing the top of the blonde’s head in a brotherly way.

“Gotta feed our little leprechaun, yeah?” the brown-haired boy teased, and Niall only grinned up at Liam, nodding in agreement. Harry felt as if he were intruding on them, especially as Liam pulled Zayn into his other side, whispering into the raven-haired boy’s ear and eliciting a peal of laughter from the lad. He wasn’t sure if Niall’s invitation extended to him, so he slowly started inching away from the trio.

“You coming, mate?” Zayn asked, turning from Liam’s side and catching Harry before he had gotten too far away. Three pairs of eyes gazed at him expectantly, and he had no choice but to nod, falling back into step next to Zayn, who elbowed him lightly in the side with a smile before turning to listen to whatever Niall was saying.

If this was what came of the first challenge, maybe the others wouldn’t be too bad, Harry thought as they entered the cafeteria, all eyes turning on them, and he felt a little self-conscious walking with the older boy’s who didn’t bat an eyelash at the attention they were getting.

But then again, maybe the first challenge was just made to be really easy on purpose.

~O~


	3. Just Friends

“Jessie J is clearly better than Katy Perry, how can you even compare them?”

Zayn choked on his drink, the water he was sipping spilling over the front of his shirt as he coughed.

“You’re kidding, right?” Zayn asked indignantly, slamming his cup down on the table loudly, attracting a couple glares here and there from people who were attempting to study (why they chose the cafeteria, no one really knew), and his eyes narrowed at the curly-haired lad sitting across from him. “There is absolutely no way Jessie J is better than Katy Perry. Give me three good reasons.”

Harry laughed, enjoying the angry look Zayn was giving him (he just looked like a hurt puppy) and he rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling in thought. They were eating dinner, a pattern that had followed the pair since that first French class, and seeing how they had French every day (language classes met five days a week), it was kind of assumed now that they would go to dinner after. It was weird, the feeling of normalcy that followed the pattern, and Harry often forgot that Zayn was supposed to be like, judging him or something, or that he was still trying to get into the frat and not already in it. Yet, as Liam, Niall, and especially Zayn thrust themselves upon him and into his life, well, it almost felt as if he had always been friends with the trio.

They were just…familiar.

“Well, to begin, Jessie J doesn’t direct her songs toward the pre-teen fan base,” Harry paused, slipping a green bean into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Zayn was already looking hurt (Katy Perry was like his _idol_ or something) and Harry had to bite back a smile. “Okay, and two, have you heard her _speak?_ The accent is fucking _hot_ , and I don’t even-“ he stopped there, cutting himself off before he could finish the sentence with ‘like women’ because somehow he wasn’t quite sure what Zayn would say about him being gay. Sure, Harry had his suspicions about Zayn’s sexuality, even Niall and Liam, but he didn’t want to fuck up his chances to get into DKE by coming out to someone who could very well be homophobic.

“Don’t even what?” Zayn was asking, and Harry thought frantically about what he could say.

“Don’t- uh- usually think British women are attractive,” Harry concluded, playing it off and sending a silent apology to British women, who he assumed were just as attractive as any other type. “Anyway, the final reason that Jessie J is a better artist than Katy Perry, and I’m not saying I don’t respect Katy Perry, she’s worked hard to get where she is, but Jessie J, well, Jessie J can really fucking sing. Have you heard her runs and her version of ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’? She’s amazing.”

Zayn studied Harry for a while, his expression unreadable, and Harry was a little scared that the older boy was actually mad at him for thinking Jessie J was better, but then, he picked up his fork and began shoveling food into his mouth, so Harry figured he wasn’t, angry, that is.

“Katy Perry is fit, though,” Zayn mumbled around a mouthful of pasta, “Have you seen her tits?”

Harry nodded, laughing uncomfortably because yeah he had seen her tits before but shit, he didn’t really care too much for those female organs, or any female organs, and he thought male pecs were much more attractive, but Zayn had yet to know this, so Harry played along, albeit, not very convincingly. Zayn didn’t question his poor acting skills, though, and continued the conversation, switching the topic to French and how fucking difficult the pronunciations were compared to Spanish.

Harry relaxed back into the conversation and enjoyed watching the facial expressions Zayn made, his heart warming at how the older boy’s nose would scrunch up when he laughed and how when he fully smiled it was really fucking pretty. He forgot that he was in the cafeteria, and that Louis was waiting in his room to study, and that Zayn had every capability to take Louis away from him, and he just focused on _being_ there and it was nice.

Really, really fucking _nice._

And then, Zayn was asking him a question, “What made you want to be in DKE?” and Harry was freezing up again, thinking about how he had gotten comfortable a little too quick (and when had he ever clicked this easily with anyone? Oh, right, _never_ ) and his green eyes were wide and his palms sweaty.

“Erm,” he said slowly, “It’s been my dream since I was two years old,” he deadpanned, hoping to play the whole thing off as a joke because no one had to know that he was only joining the frat for Louis, his best friend, (although his reason was quickly changing as he learned more and more about the raven-haired lad), and really, he had no other reason for wanting to join the frat other than that. Zayn laughed at his joke though, and quickly changed topics to how the other rushers had been faring with the challenge and telling a story about how he had caught one of the lads in Group 1 wearing only whitey tighties and nothing else around campus.

Harry laughed along, but he quickly became more reserved, and if Zayn noticed, he didn’t say anything because the thing about Harry that he had come to learn was the lad could be talkative as any other person, but he kept an air of mystery to himself and as much as Zayn had figured out about the younger bloke, he was constantly reminded that he really didn’t know much at all about the green-eyed boy.

~O~

“This one should stay-“

“Didn’t you catch him with pants on though?” Liam cut Niall off, staring at the picture the blonde was holding up intently for a few seconds before looking away. The three were sprawled out across the floor, looking at pictures of all of the rushers and deciding who would stay and who would go during the first cuts.

“No, no, that was this one,” Niall corrected, holding up another picture, and yeah, that guy looked basically the same as the other one so how the fuck could he tell the difference, but Zayn nodded along because in the end both of those two would probably end up being cut.

“Oh, okay,” Liam said absentmindedly, already looking at another boy and jotting down stuff in a notebook, probably writing a pro and con list about each boy in his group because Liam was like that, all organized and shit, while Niall and Zayn were just going from their memories, which, in the end, might not be the best idea, but if these boys really wanted to get in the frat, well, the secret was to get to know the older brothers. And some of the boys had figured this out, which put them ahead of others, especially if they made it through all of the challenges.

“What about him? I dunno something seems off with him, bad vibes, ya know?” Zayn asked, looking at one of the lads in his group who had been sassy with him the day previous. He had brushed it off before, but now that he thought about it, the boy had been downright rude for no apparent reason.

“Haven’t talked to him,” Niall said after a quick glance.

“Neither,” Liam agreed.

“I don’t like him.”

“Then cut him,” Niall shrugged, getting a little tired of just sitting there and standing up to grab his guitar.

“Niall!” Liam admonished, his face looking at the blonde boy with a reproachful glare at Niall’s short words. Out of the three of them, Liam was the one who thought the most about who to cut and who to keep, and he was also the most fair about the entire ordeal, unlike Zayn and Niall who based their decisions mainly on what they thought about the blokes. Of course, if someone fucked up during a challenge they had no choice but to cut them, but if they didn’t like someone, well, they had the power to make the lad’s pledging experience extra difficult.

“What? If Zayn doesn’t like him why should we keep him?” Niall replied, his voice a little sharper than its usual cheerful tone, but he didn’t seem too put off, strumming the strings of his guitar to some random tune.

“If he passed the first challenge we can’t cut him yet,” Liam decided, nodding his head authoritatively before turning back to notebook.

“Always the nice guy, Li.”

“Shut up, Zayn.”

“What about Louis?” Niall asked, watching as Liam’s hand fell (and stayed) on Louis’ picture for a bit longer than any of the others. He had a tiny suspicion that Liam was becoming a little attached to the loud, obnoxious, although quite funny, lad, and he had yet to bring it up, knowing Liam he probably wouldn’t give anything away about his feelings until he was really sure, and it had only been a week or so since meeting the boy, so that meant Liam would keep quiet about it for at least another two weeks if not longer.

“Keep.”

“Fast to reply there, Liam,” Zayn teased, noticing the same thing Niall did and enjoying the chance to tease Liam, a hobby he practically lived for because Liam would blush all adorably and get all flustered. It was cute.

“Shut up, Zayn,” Liam was saying again, and Zayn began to think this was going to be a common occurrence that day, Liam telling him to shut up. He didn’t think about it too long, though, because if Liam was getting all short and huffy it meant that Zayn was hitting a vulnerable spot, and Liam very rarely left any holes in his serious, _responsible_ shield of maturity.

“That was rather fast, though, Li,” Niall nodded, his blue gaze unreadable and Liam shrunk, blushing, under their gazes, avidly making a point _not_ to reach either one of their gazes. He was trying hard _not_ to think about any of the boys with any bias, but Louis had gotten under his skin a bit in the past week, teasing him constantly, even going so far as to get a very noticeable semi in front of Liam one day when he was checking to see if the loud boy was following the challenge (in his defense, he was wearing basketball shorts and didn’t have any underwear on).

“You shut up, too, Niall. What about that red head, hmm?” Liam was clearly trying to turn the tables, but Niall, ever the happy lad, didn’t fall for Liam’s jab, instead, smiling brightly at the mention of the red-headed boy who Zayn had noticed initially. As he predicted, Niall and the red-head had hit it off quite well, and Zayn had seen Niall with the pale boy almost as much as he had seen Niall with Harry, something he needed to talk to Niall about, not that, you know, Zayn was jealous or anything.

“Ed? I like him! We jammed together a bunch this week, he’s got wicked fingerings.”

“Good fingers, eh?” Zayn raised his eyebrows provocatively, wiggling them at the blonde boy, who just smiled toothily back. If there was one problem with Niall, it was that he took everything in stride and didn’t blush like Liam when Zayn teased.

“Shut up, Zayn,” Liam said without looking up.

“What? I was talking about guitar…”

“Sure you were. What about Harry?” Niall soothed, changing the topic smoothly to the curly-haired lad with whom Zayn had been spending a lot of time. Niall had also been spending a lot of time with the green-eyed bloke, learning a lot about Harry’s personality, fears, worries, likes, and dislikes, but of course, he wasn’t sure if Zayn knew about that, nor did he know where Zayn stood feelings wise for the lad.

“Harry’s fingering? Wouldn’t know yet,” Zayn joked, hiding his feelings behind facetious gestures, and Niall watched as his frat brother used humor to stray from any indication of his true feelings. It was something the raven-haired boy did a lot, Niall had noticed, and although he didn’t call his best mate out on it, he shoved it to the back of his mind for later speculation. A lot of people thought Niall was clueless, maybe even air-headed, but really, Niall observed a lot of things. He liked observing, trying to learn what made people tick. It was just something he had always done.

“Not what Niall meant, mate,” Liam spoke, finally putting his pen and paper down to look at Zayn, commenting on the thoughts Niall had just been thinking to himself. If Zayn was getting uncomfortable under their stares, then he didn’t show it. He was the best at hiding what he was feeling out of the three of them, and while Niall had gotten quite good at reading him, there were times when it was really impossible to know what he was thinking.

“What about him, then?” Zayn asked slowly, putting down the two pictures that he had been staring at a little too intently, and looking Liam directly in the eyes.

“You guys seem close,” Liam observed, and his tone wasn’t judging, but rather, prying, almost, as if he were trying to get information out of the raven-haired boy.

“It’s been a week, but yeah, we have French together,” Zayn shrugged, not giving much more detail.

“Zayn…” Liam began slowly, his tone taking on the fatherly vibe, and he began collecting some of the pictures, the ones they had already decided on, piling them by cut or no cut in each of their respective groups. He missed the way Zayn twitched a little as he cleaned up, but Niall didn’t, watching as Zayn tensed, his back going rim rod straight.

“What, Liam? Am I not allowed to get to know him?” Zayn asked, tone a little sharper, his dark eyes glaring. He looked at Niall as if to gauge whether or not the blonde boy was going to lecture him as well, but Niall shrugged in response, still strumming on his guitar, singing softly along with the music.

“Well, it’s not that, it’s just, we haven’t even gotten through the first challenge yet…”

“Your point?”

“Just…be careful. I- he- it’s like he’s holding something back, ya know?”

“He’s just shy,” Zayn retorted, not sure why he was feeling so defensive when Liam was just trying to look out for him. Liam sighed heavily, turning back to the pictures they hadn’t looked at, and Zayn followed suit, pointing to another boy who he had caught wearing a shirt when he wasn’t supposed to. He looked up a few minutes later to meet Niall’s gaze again, the blonde boy uncharacteristically quiet, but Niall only shot him a short smile before breaking out into a loud raucous song, effectively killing worries Zayn might be having.

~O~

“Fuck, no, no marks,” Harry moaned, shoving Louis away a little as he attempted to suck and nip at his collarbone, but really, who wouldn’t try to suck there, the bone just protruded, and pale and shit, asking to be marked. “Can’t wear a shirt to cover it up, remember?”

Louis laughed in response, kissing down Harry’s chest to reach his inner thigh instead, where he began sucking as if his life depended on it. Harry was caught between laughing and extremely turned on as his best friend’s five o’clock shadow rubbed against his thigh, the short stubble tickling a little and sure to leave a little rash. Not that Harry minded- he rather liked when Louis didn’t shave for a couple days and encouraged his friend to leave the hair for a few days.

They were in Louis’ room, on his bed, the comforter piled up at the bottom of the mattress, and well, yeah, it was pretty easy to deduce what they were doing as their hands tugged at each other. They had a no kissing rule, at least, a no kissing lips rule, obviously that didn’t apply to other parts of the body as Louis continued his sucking and licking and nipping, but mainly, they just gave each other hand jobs and the occasional blow job if they were feeling particularly horny.

It may seem weird to other people, this tradition (was it a tradition? Or just a weird part of their friendship that they usually kept a secret?), but Harry and Louis had been doing it since the seventh grade, when they figured out that getting each other off was much more enjoyable than using their own hands. Since then, they continued to help each other out every once in a while, even going so far to lose their virginities to each other, but oddly enough, it hadn’t done much other than strengthen their friendship, and neither boy had grown actual feeling for the other in more than a brotherly way. Of course, if one of them was in a relationship, which had happened a few times between the two of them, they didn’t continue with the extra benefits of their relationship, but seeing how both of them were currently single, well, they were both free to jack each other off when needed.

Louis stopped his ministrations on Harry’s inner thigh, crawling up next to where Harry was sitting against the headboard and reaching over to grab Harry’s dick in his hand, Harry doing the same, and they sat there for a few minutes, breathing heavily, tugging at each other.

“Liam’s cute,” Louis offered conversationally, his pace on Harry’s cock unchanging as he spoke, and he said it so casually, as if he were talking about the weather or what he had eaten for dinner. Harry grunted in response, too focused on moving his hand in time with Louis’. “So is Zayn, for that matter.”

Harry closed his eyes at that comment, giving in to the image of the raven-haired boy and imagining that it was Zayn beside him instead of Louis. He had been trying so hard _not_ to, seeing as he had only known the raven-haired lad for a week or so, and well, he didn’t think Zayn swung that way, at least from their conversations that’s what Harry had decided in the past day. But the moment he closed his eyes and Zayn emerged on the back of his eyelids, his lower stomach began to tighten familiarly, and he moaned loudly.

“I’m gonna, fuck, Lou, I’m gonna-“ and then he was coming, jerking up into Louis’ hand with his hips, the bed squeaking under their combined weights as he spilled his load over his lap and Louis’ hand in wet, hot spurts. This seemed to push Louis over the edge as well, because his best friend was soon coming as well, his face scrunching up in ecstasy. They sat there panting for a while before moving to clean up, both of them thanking the dorm designers for putting a sink inside the room.

“But really, Liam’s cute,” Louis announced again, and he had that look of determination in his eyes, which was never good, and Harry sighed, pulling up his boxers before turning back to Louis, who was now looking thoughtfully at his phone. When Louis put his mind to something, or _someone_ , well, he became single-minded about them. He liked the chase, enjoyed the flirting, and Harry really hoped he was smart enough not to just fuck with Liam, especially before they had made it through this whole pledging shit.

“Just be careful, Lou,” Harry pleaded, jutting his lower lip out to let Louis know he was being serious. After spending a lot of time with Zayn and Niall, as well as Liam for a little, he already knew that no matter what, he didn’t want to lose their friendship (if he could even call it that), especially not because Louis was being a twat.

“When am I ever not careful?” Louis asked, his blue eyes twinkling and lips dancing in a smile, and the two of them laughed at each other at that because, well, Louis was never careful, a characteristic that could be very funny at times, but also, very dangerous during others.

~O~


	4. First Cuts

“I will never, ever say no to a food invitation,” Niall spoke around his pizza, cutting Harry off as he began to thank the blonde boy profusely, for about the tenth time since they had met up. It was past the lunch rush, so the pizza shack was fairly quiet-the only other person eating was a girl with a textbook, iPod, and salad.

“I just- yeah, okay,” Harry looked back down at his own food, dabbing some of the grease off of the cheese before taking a small bite. They sat in peace for a while, the only sounds coming from either of them were the soft motions of their jaws chewing, and Niall was starting on his third piece when Harry spoke again.

“Where do you put all that food?”

Niall stopped eating, the slice of pizza dangling mid-air in front of his mouth, and he laughed because the curly-haired lad was looking at him with a curious bewilderment that was just so…innocent, almost, like he was _actually_ trying to think of where all the food went in Niall’s body. The blonde knew that Harry hadn’t asked him here to find out more about his metabolism or eating habits and that he had something on his mind, but he also knew how reserved the younger bloke was, so he was letting Harry ruminate on his thoughts for a little while.

“I’ve got a fast metabolism,” Niall answered, putting the pizza down to lift up his shirt, revealing a very white, thinly muscled stomach. He thought it was a little ironic how girls wanted to lose weight and he was trying to gain it. He could eat an entire cow and not gain more than a pound. “Sucks, really.”

Harry just giggled in response, and yes, he giggled, as in, high-pitched, adorable _giggle_. Niall thought it was cute, and if he didn’t have his eyes on that red head (and if Zayn wasn’t so damn defensive about Harry), well, he might have thought about dating Harry himself. In any case, Niall was glad about his new friendship with the curly-haired lad, and a little curious as to _why_ Harry had called him up for lunch.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask, Harry was speaking again, and yeah, his next question was interesting, at least to Niall because well, music was his life.

“You play guitar right?” Harry asked, face all serious again, his eyebrows furrowed and creating a deep crease, jade eyes turning a darker shade, and Niall could sense some bit of frustration boiling inside the younger boy, who was still staring intensely, shaking his hair out of his eyes and pushing it back with his right hand carefully.

“Yeah, I do,” Niall nodded, and a smile came to his face, the smile that always hit him when he thought about music. There was rarely a time when music didn’t make him smile; it was just that…thing for him, the one thing that was always there and always a relief, his happiness.

“Do you ever dislike practicing?” Harry was asking, and Niall tried thinking about it, wracking his brain for a time when the guitar was ever a complete frustration, but he couldn’t remember any time when he really didn’t want to play, because it was more than just practicing, it was something he wanted to do, _needed_ to do, like breathing, and sure, he got frustrated, but whenever he couldn’t do something on guitar it only made him practice even more.

“Not really, no,” Niall replied, and it didn’t seem to be the answer Harry was looking for because he was sighing heavily, toying with the half-eaten pizza on his plate, ripping the crust up into tiny pieces. “Why?”

Harry hesitated, “Well, I- uh- I’m taking vocal lessons, like for my general ed. fine arts requirement, and I thought I liked singing well enough, but like, I have to do all these scales and stuff, and it’s just really freaking hard.”

Niall inwardly relaxed, he could deal with music problems, that was his forte, he wasn’t so good at all the girl problems or English class struggles, although Harry didn’t seem to need either, as girls didn’t quite catch his attention very much (Niall didn’t think he had ever even seen Harry flirting with a girl, even if they flocked around him like he was the last male on Earth), and Zayn said that Harry was quite good at English, all languages, in fact.

“That’s music for ya,” Niall replied, smiling sympathetically at Harry, who had just resorted to leaning his head on the table, curly mop of brown hair spilling everywhere. He looked exhausted, physically and emotionally, his pallor pale and eyes a little blood shot. He was still shirtless, this being the last day they had to complete the challenge, and the muscles on his shoulders and neck looked too tight, pulled taut with a string of worries. “Just gotta find something you love about it, I guess, something that makes it all worth it. Maybe we can jam sometime, that always helps.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, and he lifted his head up again, shooting Niall a small smile. It seemed that the idea of playing together was a good one because Harry brightened a little after the suggestion.  “I’d like that.”

Niall continued to eat, his pizza was getting cold damnit, and he was almost wishing for another, but then, that full feeling hit him, and he was only able to sit back, feeling as if he would burst any second. The girl with the textbook, iPod, and salad was walking out the door, and he vaguely thought that she would be cute, well, if he was into girls, and he was back to wondering if Harry was straight or not. That thought was pushed to the back of his mind though, as he looked back at the boy sitting across from him, who was picking at his pizza again.

“Something tells me that music isn’t the only thing bothering you,” Niall stated, and Harry’s hands froze and he licked his lips, gulping a little under the blonde’s inquisitive gaze, not that he really had any reason to be nervous. Niall would have chalked it up to the cuts they were announcing later, but he thought that Harry knew he wasn’t going to get cut this round, so it couldn’t possibly be that. “Boy problems?”

Niall knew he was assuming a lot, but he couldn’t really see Harry being into girls, and if Zayn’s reaction to the curly-haired boy was any indicator, Harry was very well into blokes. Plus, he just had a really good gaydar, something his friends often asked him to use because there was nothing worse than trying to hit on a bloke who was perfectly straight, a situation in which Liam often found.

“Erm-well- I-“ Harry spluttered, green eyes wide and pupils dilated. He looked nervous and young, really, really young, and Niall was a little curious, okay, a lot curious as to why he seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. “You- uh- you don’t care- about- you know-“

“You being gay?” Niall laughed, and his voice echoed around the room, bouncing off the tackily wall-papered walls and back to the kitchen, where the cooks were quietly talking to themselves. “Mate, you have been hanging out with me, Liam, and Zayn, right?”

Harry nodded, cocking his head like a confused puppy, and Niall took a little pity on the boy, who had previously seemed fully of confidence and completely sure of himself, but now, looked rather innocent, although Niall was almost positive that Harry was far from innocent.

“Then, you’d know that we, as fellow homosexuals, really, really don’t give a shit whether you are or not,” Niall stated a little crudely, but Harry seemed to need the blunt statement as his eyes widened in understanding and he nodded rapidly.

“So, you mean, uh- Zayn is uh- gay?”

“Is that what this is about?” Niall questioned, and he was almost sure of it because Harry flushed before him, cheeks reddening in the most delicious shade of scarlet, and the blonde liked that shade on him, the deep red contrasting with his pale skin.

“No! Not- no, that’s not what I was getting at- just- no,” Harry shook his head, hair flying around, and his hand reached up to push it out of his eyes again, making Niall think that the boy could really use a haircut. And then, Harry was back to picking at his pizza, and Niall was thinking that he was a really bad liar, either that, or he just wasn’t quite sure about his feelings towards Zayn.

“You been getting any, then?” And Niall was really curious about this because he could see a few old hickeys by the edge of Harry’s pants, leading down to, well, you know where, and he was fairly sure it wasn’t from Zayn because the raven-haired boy wasn’t too great at hiding his post-sex glow, but he didn’t want his friend to get hurt if Harry was dating someone else.

Harry seemed to see where Niall’s gaze had landed, and he pulled his pants up, covering the marks with his boxers and wishing for his shirt. He shrugged, not wanting to answer Niall’s question because he didn’t want Niall to think anything of the love bites and he would definitely be talking to Louis later about hiding them better, he had a feeling that the placement of the hickeys would become a problem eventually.

“Nothing serious,” he responded, and it wasn’t, really, he and Louis had friends for years and they just added the extra benefits somewhere along their journey as friends, and it was just nice. The problem was that people didn’t usually understand this, and Harry didn’t really want to explain to Niall the full extent to his and Louis’ relationship, and he especially didn’t want Zayn to know about it, why, well he wasn’t quite sure, but he had a nagging suspicion that the raven-haired boy wouldn’t be too thrilled.

Niall didn’t quite buy his answer, but didn’t push him for a different one, for which Harry was grateful. He was still confused about how he felt for the raven-haired boy, and yeah, Zayn was insanely attractive, but the lad knew it and Harry wasn’t sure why he would choose _him_ , a freshman, over any other person. Also, he still needed to get into the frat, and who knew if he would even make it in, much less stay in contact with his new upperclassmen friends if he didn’t. Niall let him think for a little while longer, and instead of continuing on the previous topic, the blonde stood, his chair moving against the tiled floor with a loud screech.

“C’mon, let’s go jam for a while, yeah?”

~O~

“One more set of eight- anyway, Zee, the boys and I have been watching you three and we’ve all agreed that you need to spend more time with other people.”

Zayn huffed loudly with sweat dripping down his shoulder blades as he heaved the heavy weights up and down, trying not to meet the gaze of the tall lad hovering over him. He was at the gym trying to tone his muscle a bit more, and no, not for _anyone_ in particular, he just wanted to look more fit, at least that was his excuse and reason for putting himself through this torture. He had asked Andy to come with him because he was the strongest, other than Liam, and spent the majority of his time at the gym anyway. However, he didn’t expect the lecture that came with the work out.

“We spend time with other people,” Zayn responded after he finished his last set. It came out a little defensive, and Andy raised his eyebrows in response, indicating for Zayn to move with a little tap on the shoulder and the two boys traded places, Andy moving under the weights and Zayn going to spot.

“C’mon, Sean and I practically know everything about those couples lads you’ve been hanging out with and we haven’t even met them properly yet,” Andy spoke easily, as if he hadn’t just done ten reps and wasn’t continuing to do ten more. Zayn was a little jealous of the ease with which Andy benched, or his damn biceps, but he brushed it off quickly, remembering that Andy had to be a good four inches taller than where he stood at five foot eleven inches.

“Yeah, so what are their names, hair color, eye color, and…” Zayn paused, thinking of something that Andy wouldn’t know and failing, so he just continued, “something random about them.”

Andy didn’t hesitate to reply as he took a moment in between sets, “Okay, the redhead. Edward Sheeran, uh blue eyes I think? Already said he has red hair. He plays guitar. Danny Riach. Dark brown hair and eyes, and he’s in your design class and in Niall’s group, but you guys are always talking fashion.”

Andy stopped there, and Zayn heard him cough, which sounded a lot like ‘so gay’, and Zayn laughed a little at that. Andy was one of the guys in DKE who was straight, but liked to dapple here and there with the male sex, and the huge bloke was always making gay jokes, at Zayn especially.

“Okay,” Andy continued, and he had started lifting the weights again, tanned skin gaining a light sheen of sweat. “Louis Tomlinson, or ‘the Tommo’ as Liam calls him. Light brown hair, blue eyes, and a total drama queen. Super sassy but really fucking hilarious.”

Zayn nodded because, yeah, Andy was describing all of the boys pretty accurately, which was kind of a good thing, but at the same time not because he was proving his point. And maybe they did need to start getting to know the other rushers a bit more because more than four would make it at the end of the pledging, but really, Zayn was perfectly content just getting to know a few of them, which might be a little unfair, or a lot.

“And finally, seemingly your personal favorite, the curly-haired mystery boy. Tall, dark brown, curly hair, green eyes. Harry Styles, full name is Harold Edward Styles. Really good singer, although a bit quiet, but he seems kind of naughty, maybe.”

Andy finished the set, and the weight bar fell back into its place holder with a clang, startling Zayn a bit because well, shit, Andy had accurately described Harry, except, wait-

“He sings?” Zayn’s eyes were narrowed, and he was looking at Andy a little curiously but also a little angrily because how the hell did Andy know something about Harry that he didn’t. “I thought you hadn’t met him?”

Andy had turned around on the bench, facing Zayn as he stretched his long arms out before fiddling with the headband that held his blonde hair back. He was looking at Zayn thoughtfully, gauging his reaction.

“Haven’t, well, not really. I was leaving the house to meet you here and he was with Niall. Nialler was playing guitar and he was singing, they seemed to be having a blast too. The kid got a set of pipes on him.”

Zayn was quiet for a while after that, and the pair moved on to a different exercise, Andy showing Zayn how to do it, and neither talked, clearly caught up in their own thoughts.

No, Zayn wasn’t jealous that Harry was hanging out with Niall, not really, it was just that, well, he thought they had been getting closer, and then, he finds out that Harry is sharing something with Niall that he hadn’t with him, and yeah, so he was kinda jealous. Not in the way that he wanted to rip Niall’s head off or anything, but more in the way that he thought Harry was more comfortable with him than any of the other boys, which clearly wasn’t true if Harry was sharing his singing with Niall. Zayn didn’t know that the younger boy even fucking sang.

He was sighing again for about the tenth time, wondering what else he didn’t know about the curly-haired lad, when Andy spoke up again.

“Look, Zayn, this is what I’m talking about. You guys need to separate whatever feelings you’re having for these lads and look at everyone equally. There’s 60 boys rushing and you’ve really only gotten to know, what, like four of them? And yeah, that’s great and all, but take a step back, okay? That’s all I’m saying. One, because you don’t know for sure if those four will even make it through the challenges and then what happens? And two, because you need to make this fair for everyone and not be biased when you’re deciding who stays and who goes. Liam gets it, we talked about it the other day, but Sean is going to talk to Niall, too. And I’m not saying that you can’t hang out with Harry or Danny or whoever, just, get to know the other guys, too, yeah?”

Zayn could only nod in agreement; a little annoyed because Andy had just made some very valid points, there was nothing he could do to prove him wrong, and these weights were really fucking heavy.

~O~

Louis whistled as he walked, much to the annoyance of everyone in the building, but he paid no regard to the angry glares shooting daggers his way as he inhaled the sharp smell of crisp books. He was in the library- gasp! Louis Tomlinson in a _library?_ \- and he glanced around, trying to find an empty table. However, he found one better when he saw the brown-haired jock sitting alone, head bobbing to silent music that was streaming through big headphones.

“Liam! Fancy seeing you here,” Louis spoke, and he gained quite a few more glares, as well as a couple loud shushes, which he just brushed off with an eye roll and a very mature shush of his own back at one of the girls. He did lower his voice to a loud whisper, though, which for him was a lot. “Jeez, what do people do in here, study?”

Liam was glancing up at him now, eyes wide and glassy, and Louis had half a mind to ask the older boy if he had been studying too much, but well, damn, if he wasn’t so freaking _adorable_ and seemingly flustered by Louis’ sudden presence. So Louis tried not to tease him, only allowing a knowing smirk to appear, which only grew when Liam squeaked out a little ‘hello’.

“Hello to you too, Lee-Lee,” Louis replied, and Liam flushed, his cheeks getting all rosy and eyes blinking rapidly as if he were trying to blink out a tear or something, and yeah, Louis decided, this was way more fun than studying. “So, what are you studying?”

Liam’s cheeks got even redder at this question, curiously darkening to a deep maroon, and he looked down at his book, not meeting Louis’ inquisitive gaze. Naturally, this only made Louis more interested, so he dropped his eyes to the book in front of Liam, and couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips.

“Are they- are they _mating_?” Louis asked, giggling and Liam didn’t look as if he could form a coherent sentence, looking anywhere but Louis, the ground, his book, the very detailed _drawings_ in the book, the ceiling.

“I’m studying pre-med,” Liam explained, but it came out as more of a question and he felt even more embarrassed and flustered because Louis was full out cackling by now, loud guffaws of whooping laughter, and the students around them weren’t even bothering to hush him at this point, instead just looking on curiously.

“So, is this the anatomy of humans and their mating habits?” Louis asked once he had calmed down a bit, and Liam nodded earnestly, mistaking the feather-haired lad’s question for genuine curiosity, and well, that _was_ what the book was explaining, almost down to the exact title of the chapter. He seemed to be have thought incorrectly though, as Louis asked another question.

“Want to give me a lesson?”

And once more, Liam was shocked into a flubbering mess, especially after Louis added a wink and sultry smile, blue eyes innocently wide, a distraction, and lips oddly reddened, as if he had been snogging someone for a good hour or so. He wasn’t able to form words to answer Louis’ question, but it didn’t seem as if the younger boy was actually looking for a real answer because he was still giving Liam those eyes and causing his insides to flip and flop all over the place, but no, he was Liam Payne and he didn’t get flustered or gooey on the inside over a _guy_ , but then Louis was leaning across the table, hooking their feet together underneath, and his breath was warm on the side of Liam’s face.

“So,” Louis began, changing the subject a little, his voice all breathy and sexy sounding, “I’ve heard there’s a specific section of the library, somewhere in the back, where people go to- you know- have a good snog…I think it’s called the stacks, if I remember correctly. You ever been there, Lee Lee?”

And fuck it, Liam was definitely getting flustered and gooey on the inside, and there probably was no such thing as ‘The Stacks’, but damn all, he wanted to find them as soon as possible, and he wasn’t one for random snogging sessions, hell, he had only ever slept with one guy and that was Niall and it was _special_ , but he wanted to do very, very dirty, naughty things with Louis, and that just wasn’t _him_. Louis seemed to know this, as he pulled back, his stupid, cheeky smirk plastered wide, and he definitely didn’t seem to expect an answer that time because he was reaching down into his back pack, their feet still entwined under the table, and pulling out his own book and computer, turning his attention away from the still flushed and flustered look on Liam’s face.

~O~

It was about eight o’clock at night and they were back on the grass, split up in groups, waiting for the results for the first challenge. Well, Harry was waiting at least.

Liam had already announced the Group 1 cuts, listing off the four boys who didn’t make it and leaving sixteen lads left in his group, including Louis. Not that Harry thought Louis wouldn’t make it, of course, because Louis was perfect for DKE.

Niall had announced his cuts in a similar manner, calling out four names and giving them a sad grimace and a sorry. Earlier that day, after they had gotten pizza and while they were jamming together, Niall had confessed that he hated doing this part, telling someone that they didn’t make it. Harry could tell that the blonde boy was sincere when his blue eyes had drooped sadly and the chords turned into more minors and diminished ones, the rhythm of the music slowly down. And Harry could tell that Niall was beating himself up a bit as he whispered into the four boy’s ears, probably saying sorry and that he wished things could be different because that’s just who Niall is, all nice and caring in this laid back way.

However, now Harry was waiting nervously for Zayn to finish calling out names because the raven-haired lad decided to do things a little differently, and instead of calling out the names of the four blokes who would be cut, he was calling out the sixteen names of the ones who were staying. Zayn was on the eleventh person, leaving five spots left, and Harry’s name had yet to be called, which he wouldn’t be too worried about if Zayn was acting normally, but the older lad hadn’t met his gaze nor had he even looked in Harry’s general direction, so yeah, Harry was freaking out a little, although freaking the fuck out would be a more accurate description of how he was feeling.

He didn’t show it though, not as Zayn called out two more names that weren’t his and there were only three spots left. He didn’t even flinch when the fourteenth and fifteenth spots were filled up and there was only one left, even if he wanted to scream and yell because he had followed the challenge exactly and hadn’t worn a shirt for an entire week (he still wasn’t wearing one), and he thought that he had gotten off well with the older lads, especially Zayn himself. However, when Zayn finally looked up from the piece of paper he was holding to meet Harry’s eyes, he did let his disappointment show as he broke the eye contact because Zayn’s eyes told him everything. They told him that no, he didn’t even make it through the first challenge and he had failed Louis and their friendship, and Harry was beginning to feel a bit hurt because Zayn, and also Niall, had made it seem as if he was in the clear, for this week at least.

He didn’t even realize that he had zoned out and missed the last name being called completely until a hand was clapping him on the shoulder, and a big burly bloke named Paul was congratulating him for making it through the first challenge. Harry vaguely remembered that Paul’s name was one of the first to be called, and then, wait, what?

His jade eyes flashed up to find that Zayn was still looking at him, his dark skin gleaming under the light and his facial expression unreadable, a lot more reserved than it ever had been, especially since they got past the first name introduction stage of their- friendship?- and Harry was narrowing his eyes in return because that was a little fucked up of Zayn, making him worry like that, and yeah, he was getting angry and feeling hurt because he had maybe confessed to Zayn about how scared he was about this whole pledging thing the day before, but clearly, the older boy just used that to pull a joke, which wasn’t funny at all.

So yeah, Harry was pissed and he didn’t push Louis away when his best friend threw himself at him, instead, he looked away from Zayn and focused on Louis instead, reminding himself of the real reason he had wanted to join the frat in the first place: to make Louis happy. And as he hugged his best friend back, hiding his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, Harry missed the look Zayn had given him, the look of confusion and frustration, and he just focused on being with Louis and pushing away the memories of those couple minutes where he had been completely sure and really fucking terrified of failing his best friend in only the first challenge.

~O~


	5. Welcome Party

“Take a body shot of him,” Zayn commanded, pulling Harry close to his side and pointing at one of the other boys, Louis Tomlinson.

His grip lingered a bit on the curly-haired boys wrist, and Zayn reveled in the softness of the skin and the warmth of their bodies pressed side by side, and shit if he didn’t want the younger boy in that moment, but it was a fleeting thought, one which he quickly pushed away because Harry was raising his eyebrows, a filthy smirk turning up on his red, plus lips, and he was speaking.

“That’s all?”

The younger boy laughed, disentangling his arm from Zayn’s tight grasp before he strutted over to where Louis was sitting, whispering in the other boys’ ear, and the pair was off again, Louis’ mouth upturned mischievously as they went to search for the supplies.

He forgot that he was supposed to be staying away from the curly-haired boy, or rather getting to know the other lads more, which in his mind meant he had to stay away from the younger boy, and Harry seemed to forget that he was mad at Zayn (for what Zayn wasn’t sure), and the two had been on fairly good terms the entire night.

It was the welcome party- one of the biggest parties of the year- and well, it was basically designed to give the youngsters a look into the party scene, and to see who could hold their liquor.

Zayn hadn’t been very excited about it, in fact, he was kind of dreading it, because Harry had ignored him, well, _basically_ ignored him, for the three days after the first cuts and leading up to the party, reverting back to how it was in the beginning, but almost worse, because Harry only replied to Zayn with one word grunts and scarce glances. The younger boy seemed fine, other than that, though, and Zayn had caught him hanging out with Niall more than once, speaking rapidly to the blonde, who was always trying to hold back a laugh, but when Zayn would come into view or make his presence known, Harry lapsed back into his sort of passive aggressive silence.

Which led back to the present, where Zayn’s gut was heaving violently, and he told himself he had to hold back on the liquor, although it wasn’t really the alcohol making him queasy, but rather, the thought of Harry’s mouth on anyone other than _him_ , and suddenly, he wished he hadn’t given Harry this particular task, but it was too late, because the younger boy had arrived back with Louis in tow, along with salt, tequila, and a lemon.

Before Zayn was fully able to push back his jealous thoughts, Harry was pushing Louis down on the couch and straddling the other boy, looking much too comfortable with the whole situation (or was that the alcohol in him?), and his green eyes flashed up to meet Zayn’s brown ones, taunting the older boy until Zayn broke the gaze, gulping.

“Go on then,” he commanded gruffly, nodding his head toward Louis, who was sprawled out under Harry’s body, shirt off to reveal tanned abs, and he still didn’t meet Harry’s questioning gaze, even though the curly-haired lad was still frozen, staring, the only thing moving were his hips as they rolled against Louis’ in a fluid motion, earning a gasp from the feather-haired boy who was stuck, pushed against the couch.

“Haz,” Louis keened, and the sound of the other boy’s voice seemed to shake Harry from his thoughts (Zayn wondered vaguely what the hell the younger boy could be thinking about, staring at him with those stupid, wide fucking green eyes and looking much, much too attractive to be legal; not that he’d admit it to anyone because for all intents and purposes, and for all he knew, Harry thought he was perfectly _straight_ ), and Harry’s hands began to move nimbly, setting up the salt and lemon with a practiced skill, which wasn’t quite fair because this was supposed to be a _challenge_ and the only one seeming to have difficulty here was Zayn himself.

And suddenly, the raven-haired boy was struck with the thought of _what else_ could Harry do with his hands because the younger boy was stroking Louis’ body seductively, almost like he was putting on a show- for who Zayn wasn’t quite sure- and then the shot was poured and Harry was lapping up the liquor off of Louis’ body, his tongue darting out all over the creases and ridges of the tanned boy’s abs and well, fuck, if Zayn didn’t feel himself harden a little at the sight of Harry sucking and slurping up the tequila off of Louis’ body.

He almost growled when Harry lifted his head, licking his lips of any spare liquor until they were even shinier and redder and _the things he could do with that mouth_ , and then, Harry was bending over again, this time pulling his chest flush with Louis’, who heaved violently, lifting his hips off the couch and pushing them against Harry’s, and the two boy’s were lip-locked, Harry sucking the lemon in Louis’ mouth violently, but it was more like they were kissing than anything, the way their lips were pressed against each other, the lemon disappearing and being replaced by the _redpinkredpinkredpink_ of their mouths.

And Zayn was so caught up in the entire scene, lost in a daydream about what it would feel like to be Louis in that moment, and he didn’t even realize when the lemon was being thrown aside, Harry and Louis still caught in a tight lip-lock and grinding against each other-

“Enough!”

Zayn jumped, surprised because surely he thought _he_ would be the one to break first but no, it was _Liam_ standing next to him and commanding the boy’s to stop, a pained expression on his face, one that Zayn had only seen once before on his best friend and that was when he caught his girlfriend cheating on him, and well, fuck, why was Liam so worked up over this?

The party was still going in full swing, the intoxicated inhabitants not even noticing what was occurring on the couch.

“What’s going on here?” Liam asked softly, his voice even and not matching the same emotion spilling out of his big, brown puppy dog eyes.

Zayn coughed, pulling Liam’s attention from the couch, where Harry was still straddling Louis, although now he was at least sitting up, and over to him, where he was standing watching the boy’s.

“They were doing a challenge,” Zayn responded, and it was more of a challenge for him to will away his growing hard-on than it seemed to be for Harry to take a body shot off of Louis, and for a split second Zayn wondered about why the two boy’s were so comfortable with each other, but then Liam was grabbing his arm and yanking him away from the couch and down the hallway.

“Ow! Fuck, Liam that fucking hurts!” he cried, trying to lessen Liam’s grasp but the other boy had a painfully tight grip, one that wouldn’t let up, and Zayn figured he should work out more, but quickly shed that thought because no matter how much he worked out he would never be able to match Liam’s strength. Liam didn’t seem to care that his grip was painfully tight and he continued to pull Zayn down the hallway until he was being shoved into an empty room and Liam was slamming the door and locking it behind them.

Liam pushed Zayn onto the bed and then proceeded to pace, back and forth, back and forth, across the room in short, clipped movements, and Zayn didn’t think he had ever seen Liam like this, which was a little disconcerting.

“Lee?” Zayn asked quietly, and Liam finally stopped walking, his shoulders drooping and Zayn stood, moving to where Liam was standing and putting and arm on his shoulder. “You okay?”

The room was quiet, a contrast with the rest of the house, which was as loud as a concert, the building shaking with the beat of the music and loud shouts. Zayn wanted nothing more than to go back out into the party to find Harry, but with Liam standing here like this, silent and shaking a little, well, he very well _couldn’t_.

But then, Liam started speaking, “I’m sorry, Zee. That was uncalled for. I just- seeing Harry with Louis like that…”

And Zayn understood because he had been feeling the same thing, that jealousy, the coiling hot _burn_ that snaked through his entire body, clouding his brain and any sane thoughts, and just kind of _hurt_ because of reasons that were a lot confusing and a little scary.

So he nodded and pulled Liam into a hug because he didn’t really know what else to do other than say, “I know.”

They stayed like that for a while until Liam pulled back, giving Zayn a small smile, which soon turned into his ‘thoughtful face’ and yeah, Zayn began to worry a bit because whenever Liam got that face it always meant a lecture or a serious question, and this time it was the latter.

“Wait, I thought Harry was ignoring you?”

Liam looked genuinely confused and the dark-skinned boy was glad because that meant he wasn’t the only one who noticed, and he wasn’t alone in his confusion because yeah, Harry had been ignoring him, and yeah, he didn’t know why. Sure, ever since his talk with Andy before they announced the first cuts Zayn himself started trying to distance himself from Harry a little, but he was only trying to be fair in this whole rushing thing. Harry ignoring him had only started when Zayn announced the Group 3 cuts, which didn’t make sense because Harry had made it through, and shouldn’t Harry be celebrating with Zayn? But instead, Harry had given Louis a huge hug (since when were they good friends?), and ignored Zayn, who hadn’t missed the angry and hurt look that the younger boy gave him.

“Yeah, me too,” Zayn said with a shrug of his shoulders, and Liam was looking at him, a sad face, almost pitying him, and he didn’t quite know what to do when Liam looked at him like that. It took him back to freshman year when Liam found out that his dad had disappeared on his family the year before, leaving Zayn to take care of his family, and well, he didn’t like thinking about that much.

Liam’s face stayed like that as he spoke again, “Do you know why?”

And Zayn was just shrugging again, giving Liam the how-the-fuck-would-I-know look, or at least that’s what he thought his facial expression said in that moment, and Liam was looking back with his own well-go-figure-it-out-you-idiot look, but all Zayn wanted in that moment was to get high and forget Harry and his stupid curls and dangerous dimples, but that was impossible because he had this burning deep in his gut that was screaming at him to just go and grab the younger lad and take him back to his room and never let him go. Of course, Zayn wouldn’t do that because Harry was supposedly mad at him and he didn’t know why and they had only known each other for a little while and Zayn was supposed to be getting to know the other rushers.

Zayn looked back at Liam, and figured that yes, he did need to smoke, so he took out his pipe and weed and began to smoke, persuading Liam to smoke with him, which was a rare occurrence so Zayn reveled in it, and then, he decided that if Harry was going to ignore him, well, he could get to know the other rushers and not feel that weird guilty feeling, even though he knew he would feel it anyway, which was stupid because he had absolutely _nothing_ to be guilty about regardless, and yet, all he could remember was Harry’s big green eyes looking at him all angry and _hurt_ , and well, smoking a little more couldn’t hurt, and soon enough he was feeling quite good, all tingly and intoxicated, and him and Liam were giggling at nothing.

Yeah, smoking was _definitely_ a good idea.

***

About an hour later, Zayn found himself with Andy and Sean and some rusher whose name was like Ant or something weird like that, and he was still feeling pretty good and decently high (okay, he had smoked another couple of bowls with some rusher named Paul; see, he was getting to know other lads quite well). Andy and Sean were arguing with Ant (was that his name or was it Al?) about some football game that had been on earlier in the day, and Zayn was zoning out a little bit.

He was trying really hard not to think about that stupid, curly-haired twat (as he began calling Harry in his mind) but it was really hard, especially when Harry was dancing with Louis, looking ridiculously red and sweaty and drunk and _happy_ , and even harder when Harry was suddenly right in front of him, smiling and giggling.   
“Hi Zee.”

Zayn froze up because now Andy and Sean were watching him and he was getting a little angry because who gave Harry the right to ignore him and then just act as if everything was peachy and good, but if he had looked hard enough he’d see the hurt in Harry’s jade eyes, which he didn’t, instead he just looked back at Harry, and grunted a little before turning to Andy and asking if him and Sean wanted to go smoke a little. It was a pretty fucked up move, and had Zayn been paying attention he would have seen how Harry’s eyes filled up a bit with water and how his happy smile turned into a huge frown, but no, Zayn wasn’t paying attention because his back was turned to the curly-haired boy, and he was still waiting for an answer from Andy and Sean, who turned and gave each other this _look_.

And then, Niall was suddenly there, whispering in his ear, “Nice move, asshole,” but Zayn really didn’t know what the blonde boy was talking about and when he turned around to ask, both Niall and Harry had disappeared.

What the fuck had he just done?

~O~

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Niall soothed, and he ran a calming hand (or what he thought was a calming hand, he didn’t really have much experience with this, as it was usually Liam’s job, but Liam was with Louis, which left Niall here), but the boy in his arms only sobbed more, curling pitifully in on himself in Niall’s arms. Niall tried to remember what his mom used to do, but all he could come up with was just _being there_ , so that’s what he did, he just held the lad and let him cry and whispered bullshit things in his ear, like ‘it’ll be okay’ and ‘everything will turn out alright’, but really Niall knew he couldn’t promise anything.

It seemed to work though, as Harry’s sobs quieted to small hiccups and he was scooting out of Niall’s grasp, wiping his red eyes on the back on his hand.

“You wanna talk about it?” Niall asked warily, hoping that Harry wouldn’t burst back into tears, and he was glad when the younger boy didn’t, just looking back with his jade eyes wide and he looked really fucking young and confused, and yeah, Niall felt proud of himself because he was being a big brother and he had always wanted to have a younger sibling.

“I just- _I’m_ the one who was supposed to be mad, not _him_!” Harry cried suddenly, and he was tugging at his hair, a deep frown and crease forming. Niall kind of wanted to tell the younger boy that he would get wrinkles if he continued to frown like that, but, well, it wasn’t really the time was it, seeing as the younger boy seemed to be in the middle of a crisis.

“Why _are_ you mad at him?” Niall assumed they were talking about Zayn (who else would it be?), and he was finally able to ask the question that he had been dying to know the answer to for the past few days, especially when him and Harry were hanging out and Zayn would come over, causing the younger lad to freeze up and go all quiet.

Harry’s shoulders dropped, and his arms wrapped around his thin torso, “ _Because_ ,” he whined, sounding like a petulant child. “He knew how scared I was, and then, he gave me those angry eyes and made me wait and get all worried and I thought he would take it all away, take _him_ away.”

And yeah, so Harry must be talking about the cuts three nights ago because when else did Zayn make him wait, and Niall assumed that the _him_ to whom Harry was referring was Zayn? Right? Cause who else would it be, but there was a little nagging that told Niall that he wasn’t right and there must be a different _him_ because remember the conversation the other day at the pizza shop? But Niall finally understood that Harry was mad at Zayn, or rather hurt by Zayn, because the raven-haired lad had scared him into thinking that he wouldn’t make it through the first challenge, and now that he thought about it, well, Zayn had been a little mean about it, teasing Harry by waiting until there was only one spot left, and it made sense for Harry to be hurt by that.

“He was being a dick, huh?” Niall asked, and he pulled Harry back into a hug, the younger boy falling into his arms willing and nodding rapidly in agreement, and Niall finally felt that things might be okay as he began to joke about the things they could do to Zayn and Harry started laughing.

But then, Harry pulled back again, and his eyes were wide and trusting, and his voice small, “Why is he ignoring me then?”

And Niall answered truthfully when he replied, “I don’t know.”

~O~

“What the hell was that, Zee?” Andy’s tone was sharp, and his gaze bewildered as he stared at the dark-skinned boy with something akin to shock and an almost defensive anger  (for what?) and he stood up from where he was leaning against the wall, towering over both Zayn and Sean. Both Andy and Sean had immediately passed on Zayn’s offer to smoke, staring at him as if he had grown a second head, and it hadn’t taken long for Andy to speak up.

“What do you mean?” Zayn asked, and he was just about as confused as Andy seemed to be, staring up at his large friend, who simply gazed back, definitely judging. Sean laughed, but it wasn’t the comfortable, friendly laugh he was used too, instead, it had a tint of darkness, rough and jagged, as if Zayn was missing something, something _bad_.

“What the hell was the for with your _lover boy_?” Andy was mocking him a little with the nickname, but not in a mean way, per say, more in a descriptive, kind of teasing, indignant way, which was a lot confusing for Zayn because why would Andy care about Harry, at least that’s who he assumed Andy was talking about. And his thoughts immediately went to those big, green eyes and his pale skin and contrasting dark, curly hair, the way that he would stand, feet either pointed inwards or legs tangled up in each other in such a way that made Zayn wonder how he was still standing.

“You said to get to know the other rushers,” Zayn offered up casually with a simple shrug. He knew it wasn’t really an excuse for his behavior, shit, it didn’t explain why he was being a complete dick to Harry at all, but he was tired of these _feelings_ and didn’t want them to continue, but with Andy and Sean looking at him with that disappointing gaze it was sort of hard not to feel guilty for how he treated the younger boy.

The party was still in full swing, a detail Zayn became fully aware of when an extremely drunk girl lacking the proper amount of clothing bumped right into him, stumbling and giggling unattractively. Andy was on the same page as Zayn (aka let’s get the fuck away from these idiots who cannot handle their alcohol), and he motioned with a nod of his head for Zayn and Sean to follow him down the hallway into a quieter section of the house. Zayn let his hand trail against the rough grate of the wall, running his fingers softly over the paint as they walked to find an empty room. It wasn’t long before the music became a simple thump through the walls and the shouts were muffled by the distance, and Andy was sitting him down on a bed, him and Sean sitting down in chairs that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Look, I said you should get to know the other rushers,” Andy began, looking directly into Zayn’s eyes and he squirmed, reminded of lectures from his parents back in high school, “but, I didn’t say you had to make yourself miserable in the process.”

“Maybe I should have talked to him,” Sean joked, and Andy’s glare told him that it really wasn’t the time for jocular remarks, so he settled down again, his face becoming as serious as the two boys with whom he was sitting. Zayn appreciated Sean’s remarked, and he laughed, finally allowing a smile to form on his face, and yeah, he was trying really hard not to start giggling uncontrollably because it was kind of funny, Andy trying to like, give him advice or some shit when that was Liam’s job, or even Niall’s, but not Andy’s.

Andy seemed to understand that he was too far gone, way high and off into some other atmosphere or something, so he sighed heavily, pushing Zayn back on the bed, and under the covers, removing his shoes first, and Zayn realized that they were in _his_ bedroom.

“Get some sleep, Zee,” Andy said softly. “Just think about it, ‘kay? You don’t have to be a complete asshole to Harry just to get to know other rushers, and you might want to apologize to your little curly-haired friend tomorrow ‘else you won’t be getting laid anytime soon.”

Zayn barely heard him registered his words though, because his eyes felt so heavy and he was so tired, and then, he was snoring and passed out to the world.

~O~


	6. The Second Challenge

“Yeah, so it’s just the five chords; E minor, C, G, D, and A minor, pretty simple, really,” Niall explained, strumming each chord as he named it off, the chords flowing together in a way that was melodic, yet bare, not quite finished. He had his acoustic guitar out, well, one of them, for all Harry knew, Niall used a different guitar every time. This one was mahogany, sleek and shiny, and Harry just wanted to touch it, but Niall swatted his hand away at every chance. “You’ve listened to the song, yeah?”

Harry nodded, glancing down at the lyrics opened on the screen of his phone. They were on the couch in the DKE house just jamming together, Niall on guitar and Harry singing. It had kind of become a thing, their thing, and a regular thing at that.

“Okay, I’ll play four measures and then you come in on the first verse,” Niall commanded, tapping out a beat with his foot before playing the first chord- E minor.

It was early afternoon, only a couple hours after lunch, and as Harry opened his mouth and began to sing, he let himself get lost in the music. It wasn’t enough for him to stop thinking completely though, especially as he sung the chorus of the song.

_But if I kiss you will your mouth read this truth,_

_Darling how I miss you, strawberries taste how lips do,_

_And its not complete yet, mustn't get our feet wet,_

_Cause that leads to regret, diving in too soon,_

_And I’ll owe it all to you, oh, my little bird,_

_My little bird._

Harry could see out the window to the lawn, all green and lush, and some of the older brothers were tossing a football around, Andy and Sean, if he was seeing properly, the ones who had been with Zayn at the party. He thought it was a little ironic when a pair of birds flew by because, well, the song was about a bird…sort of.

It was also kind of weird how many thoughts he could have through one verse.

He almost forgot the lyrics when he saw a dark haired boy with an impressively tall quiff and was a little disappointed when it was just a stranger, but then he was focusing back on his phone, pushing away the growing lump in his throat and singing the bridge of the song, but the lyrics were hitting a little too close to home (especially the part that went _and of all these things I’m sure of, I’m not quite certain of your love_ because let’s be honest, he wasn’t even sure of his own feelings so how the hell was he supposed to be sure of someone else’s), and Niall was looking at him suspiciously. Then, the chorus came, and fuck, his voice was cracking because he did regret it, getting so invested with Zayn after a matter of days, and now, a little over a week later, on a Monday afternoon, he was on the verge of yet another break down over a boy he barely even knew. And it was so true, a fact over which Harry didn’t even know whether to laugh or cry, because yeah, Zayn Malik was a complete, utter _stranger_ and the song he was singing was basically narrating his feelings.

It kind of hurt to think that Zayn was a stranger, but then again, Harry had moments in which Louis felt like a stranger, and they had known each other their entire lives and could finish each other’s sentences from different rooms, but it was different with Zayn, Harry felt different with Zayn, even if Zayn was sort of, kind of, completely a stranger to him.

Not that it was bothering him a little, or at all, in fact, he was more worried about the challenge later that night (what could they possibly be doing a midnight?), and definitely not about the fact that he had yet to talk to Zayn since the party on Saturday, and _no_ , he wasn’t _avoiding_ him, not really, especially because well, Zayn was ignoring him, not the other way around, right?

“Are you okay?” Niall asked suddenly, and Harry jolted upright from where he had slouched down on the couch, and he noticed that the blonde lad had set down his guitar (when had the music stopped?) and was now by his side, a hand on his shoulder, ocean blue eyes watching him worriedly. “You just kind of stopped singing and then went all, like, glossy eyed and stuff.”

Harry stared blankly (his eyes weren’t watering were they??), and he tried nodding, but wasn’t sure if his head was moving up and down, or if he was just imagining things, like Niall’s hand waving in front of his face, and he was just freaking out because of the challenge, there was nothing else on his mind other than that, _bullshit_.

“Is this about what happened Saturday?” Niall’s voice was sympathetic, a little pitying, although the blonde wasn’t really capable of pity, feeling as if it was rude to pity someone, and Harry was a little tempted to spill his completely nonexistent feelings about Zayn, but Niall was also one of Zayn’s best friends so he wouldn’t do that, plus he didn’t actually have these feelings so what would he be telling Niall? He couldn’t just say that he was pissed at Zayn for making him think he wouldn’t make it through the challenge, which made him even angrier, but at himself because he was over-reacting to something that really wasn’t a big deal.

So, he hesitated a little, _yes_ , before speaking, “No. I’m just a little worried about tonight’s challenge.”

Niall, of course, didn’t believe him, but chose not to call him out on his lie, instead, allowing him to confide in him if Harry wished, but not pushing anything, which turned out to be a good thing, especially seeing how Zayn, Andy, and Sean walked into the house moments later, talking and laughing loudly, not paying attention to the two boys sitting on the couch.

“Let’s start at the beginning again,” Harry requested, and yeah, his eyes were burning a little (he had _allergies_ for godsake), and as he looked back down at his phone, reloading the lyrics before beginning to sing again, he completely missed the fact that Zayn stood in the doorway to the kitchen, listening to Harry’s low voice sing before slipping away once the song had finished.

~O~

“He’s a six.”

“Just a _six?_ No, I’d say at least a seven, look at his ass.”

“Nope, definitely a six, look at how small his calves are compared to his bum.”

“El, look at his _ass_.”

“It’s not even that round.”

“What’s not even that round?”

“Oh, hey Liam.”

Liam looked at Louis and then over to Eleanor, and back and forth a couple times before settling back on Louis. He had just finished practice and was still sweaty from the work out, his coach made the team do sprints for the last thirty minutes of practice, and on his way back to the house he had spotted none other than Louis, who was laughing and sitting a little too close for comfort to some insanely gorgeous girl.

He’d definitely be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the girl, whoever she was, because he had been hanging out with Louis a lot and the night before he was almost positive that Louis would have kissed him, had Zayn not walked in, high out of his mind, giving Liam those eyes that meant he was in the middle of a crisis (about Harry, what else these days). And now, he finds Louis with a girl, all snuggled up close and cozy, talking about something round? Needless to say, he was a little confused, but Louis was disentangling his arm from where it sat around the girl and moving away from her, patting the open spot on the bench, indicating for him to sit.

“What’s not that round?” Liam repeated, raising his eyebrows in that confused puppy way only he could, his brown eyes going all wide and lower lip jutting out, and he felt a little bit of satisfaction when Louis’ eyes dropped down to stare at his lips, and even more so when the feather-haired boy scooted even closer toward his side and away from the girl.

“This is Eleanor,” Louis replied, ignoring Liam’s question again with a wave of his hand in the direction of the girl beside him, and the girl waved with a broad smile, a welcoming one, her long, dark curly hair shaking out behind her, and Liam forced a grin and a somewhat friendly nod. It was clear that Louis wasn’t going to answer the question anytime soon, so Liam leaned back, hiding the happiness he felt when Louis put his arm on the back of the bench, right behind his shoulders.

“Eight,” the girl, Eleanor, announced suddenly, and her voice was soft, quiet, but strong, too pretty of a voice, he thought a little bitterly, how could he compete with that voice. He followed her gaze and spotted a guy, one of his teammates actually, walking along the path a little ways away from where they were sitting.

“Nope, six,” Louis replied with a dramatic sigh and roll of his eyes at Eleanor, and Liam was just sitting there confused beyond belief because what the heck did eight and six mean? Were they trying to guess his shoe size or something? He shifted uncomfortably because he had no idea what they were talking about, and he really liked knowing those types of things, and he could feel sweat dripping down his neck and it felt kind of gross.

“What do you think, Li?” Louis asked, turning directly toward him and gazing at him with this sort of piercing stare, his blue eyes looking with such intensity that Liam flushed red for no reason other than that Louis was _looking_ at him, and he felt his jaw open a little and flop around because he was still completely befuddled and had no idea what the heck he was supposed to be thinking about.

“Erm- I- I think-uhm- what?” Liam stuttered, and this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Louis completely calm and him, the _older one_ , all tongue-tied and blubbering, but yet, it was like that, and he had no idea what Louis was even asking so he just stared back, feeling more and more flustered the longer Louis looked at him with those stupid, shining, giddy cerulean eyes. And then, Louis was bending over, cackling loudly and he was still just staring, his blush traveling down until it reached his neck and the top of his chest and he was _bright red_ because what in the world was so funny?

Eleanor seemed to take pity on him as she gave a sympathetic smile and spoke, “Lou and I are rating guys. So, I think that he,” she nodded toward his teammate, Matt was his name, “is an eight, and Lou over here seems to think he’s only a six, for what reason I cannot fathom, I mean look at his biceps? Anyway, what do you think?”

Liam sighed in relief because they were _rating_ blokes and not on a date or anything, which probably meant that if Louis was sitting here with this gorgeous girl, rating guys, that he was most likely not straight. Eleanor was still looking at him expectantly, and Louis had finally stopped laughing, so Liam supposed he should answer.

“Uhh, I’d say a seven?” Liam spoke, his voice questioning, but it was decidedly more awkward for him to be doing this because Matt was on his football team and their lockers were near each other so they changed right by each other every day and Liam wasn’t sure if he could face the other lad now, knowing that Eleanor thought he was an eight, Louis thought he was a six, and he supposedly thought he was a seven.

Louis looked at Matt, back to Liam, and back and forth a couple more times before turning to Eleanor and whispering something, which caused Eleanor to break out in laughter, and shit, even her _laugh_ was beautiful, but then, Louis was leaning into his side, and his lips were brushing against his earlobe, soft and gentle.

“I think you’re a perfect ten.”

And just as quickly as he had leaned in, Louis moved his head back with a smirk, and Liam was blushing again, his hands shaking a little in his lap because Louis thought he was a perfect ten and all he could think was _perfecttenperfecttenperfectten_ and the way Louis had felt pressed into his side and his lips against his earlobe.

“He’s a five I’d say,” Louis was already saying, pointing to another lad as if the whole _perfect ten_ thing hadn’t just happened, and Liam was still sitting there, red as a beet, eyes trained on Louis’ beautiful face and smile and mussed up hair.

Eleanor just gave him a knowing smirk when he finally looked away, and yeah, he was kind of caught in Louis Tomlinson’s spell.

~O~

“Haz.”

“…”

“Haz!”

“…”

“Harry!” Louis whined again, bouncing on the end of the bed energetically. He didn’t really like being ignored, which was clear by the way he jumped up and down annoyingly, occasionally landing on a body part, probably a foot or leg. Harry’s only response was to pull his pillow out from his head and cover his face with it, not that it stopped the bouncing or even really blocked out the sound of Louis’ voice, but he was trying to make it clear to Louis that he didn’t really want to talk.

“Harold Edward Styles! Quite ignoring me!” Louis exclaimed, halting his bouncing and deciding to take a different tactic. He kneeled at the end of the bed by Harry’s feet, watching the rise and fall of his back, he was sleeping on his stomach like usual, and with a giant inhale and exhale of breathe, Louis threw himself forward, making sure to protect his head from smashing into Harry’s too hard.

“Oomf,” Louis grunted as their bodies smacked together, and then, Harry was moving quickly, pushing Louis off of the bed and on to the floor with a giant shove and shouting, “What the hell Lou?”

Louis sprawled out on the floor (who knew the floor of Harry’s dorm room was this comfortable), and closed his eyes, ignoring the curly-haired lad, who was currently staring down at him, eyebrows scrunched up in anger and jade eyes blazing with fury, okay maybe he was exaggerating a little, but Harry was looking at him kind of angrily, or at least he imagined he was, so he squeezed his eyes shut a little more.

“How’d you even get in here?” Harry asked, his voice a little calmer, rough from sleep, and Louis felt a little bad because maybe he had actually been sleeping and not just laying in bed like he had been known to do. Also, Harry only even got really mad at him when he was tired, or when Louis was being exceedingly obnoxious, and in this case, it was safe to say that both were true.

“Your roommate let me in. Said you had showed up about half an hour ago and just flopped on your bed, he was worried that you had died,” Louis replied, eyes still closed, and yeah he was being a little cheeky, but Harry was stopping him from counting the little bright stars behind his eyelids and he had just reached like fifty or something. It had been a while since they had really hung out, other than rushed breakfast or lunch, and Louis missed his best friend, not that he would say that out loud because Harry would probably tease him endlessly for it, so he just resorted to showing Harry in the way only he could, which meant being an annoying little tosser.

“Go away,” Harry mumbled, his voice muffled, and Louis opened his eyes to see that the pillow was back over his face, making his words almost unintelligible. Of course, this meant that he only had one option, and that was to jump on him again, but he didn’t really want to be pushed off the bed because that had kind of hurt, so he decided to go for the safer route, which was pulling the comforter up a little and squishing into the bed, wrapping his entire body around Harry’s like a baby koala hangs onto its mother. Surprisingly, or not surprisingly (Louis wasn’t sure which), Harry didn’t push him off, and instead, he pulled Louis closer, nuzzling his head into the crook of Louis’ neck, his hair tickling below his chin. Louis ran his hands through the curly mop of hair right below his face, enjoying the softness of it and thinking that he should make Harry get a hair cut soon, and Harry moaned in a way that was only comparable to the purr of a kitten or a cat. They stayed like that for a while, until Louis started getting a little bored and squirming around a bit.

“Hi, Lou,” Harry rumbled, pushing Louis fully on his back and resting his bony chin on his chest, but it was a much better greeting than before, and Louis was pretty satisfied that the play-with-the-hair technique had worked (it was his number one soothing method). He had a fleeting moment of insanity (or was it temporary?), and he almost chose to ruin the moment by tickling his best friend, but decided against, especially because he had finally calmed Harry down and made it so he wasn’t angry anymore, and it would probably be a bad idea to tickle him.

So he just continued his hair stroking, and replied simply, “Hi HazzaBear.”

Harry purred in response, he chest heaving in relaxed breaths and his arms tightening around Louis’ waist, and Louis was content and warm, all snuggled up with his best friend. Of course, it wasn’t in his personality to let the cuddling and being all cute with each other last, so it wasn’t long before his body was quivering with energy again, causing Harry to groan, this time with a knowing acceptance of what was to come, and he tried to hold Louis’ excitement off by pressing his arm down a little more, which didn’t seem to work because Louis had flipped him over already, and was sitting in the curly-haired boy’s lap with a grin.

“So, it’s only like eight, and we have until a quarter to twelve before we have to go to the challenge, and I was thinking-“

“No,” Harry interrupted, and Louis pouted because he hadn’t even waited to hear what Louis’ plan actually was, the asshole, but Harry was shaking his head emphatically, curls swishing all over his pillow and into his face, hiding his green eyes a little, and yeah, he really needed a fucking hair cut.

“You didn’t even hear my idea,” Louis whined, something he seemed to be doing a lot today, but it worked on Liam, why wasn’t it working on Harry? He paused to think about this for a little second before deciding that maybe Liam was just a sucker for his whining and didn’t want to hear him complain, or maybe it was that Harry was just used to his puppy face, in which case he should find a new one so that he could charm Harry into doing whatever he wanted.

“I don’t wanna,” Harry mumbled back, his voice all rumbly in the way that usually made Louis want to snog him senseless but now just made him want to pinch his cheeks because it was so adorable, and wait, when did he stop wanting to kiss Harry? Yeah, they were best friends and just fooled around but even he couldn’t deny that Harry was really fucking pretty, and he had always wanted to kiss him. He brushed this thought away though, amounting it to him just being silly (but when was he not silly?) and that his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Please,” Louis asked again, but then realized he hadn’t even told Harry what he was begging for, and he could feel his mouth watering at the thought of ice cream because yeah, ice cream sounded freaking delicious and godly at that moment, but Harry didn’t look like he was going to be moving any time soon, which was the major problem with this situation. “I just want some ice cream, Hazza!”

There he told Harry what he wanted.

“No.”

And Harry didn’t seem to want ice cream, so yeah, a sneak attack definitely needed to happen and in three, two, one-

“Get off me,” Harry cried out, attempting to push Louis off and squirming under his touch, but Louis wasn’t budging and he had Harry pinned to the bed with his legs on either side of his waist, his small hands tickling the sleepy lad shamelessly. It was mean, Louis could admit that, but he really just wanted some fucking ice cream, which shouldn’t be this difficult to get, but Harry was being a twat and not succumbing to the call of ice cream, so he was being tickled. Served him right.

“Fine! I’ll go get some goddamn ice cream with you if you get off and stop tickling me!” Harry finally agreed, still thrashing around under Louis’ hold, and that was all it took, because Louis stopped tickling him immediately, although he kept his hands where they were, the right one under his arm pit and the left one above his hip bone.

“You aren’t lying are you?” Louis asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed, especially when Harry just blinked back up at him lazily, green eyes still a little tired looking, little sleep buggers in the inside corners of his eyelids, and Louis did him the favor of wiping them off (yuck), leaving Harry’s eyes looking a little brighter and less sleepy looking.

Louis bounced off the bed- and off of Harry- and exhaled excitedly, “Finally. Jeez, Hazza.”

***

So, Harry found himself inside of some random ice cream shop thirty minutes later, panting a little because the place that was supposedly a five minute walk ended up being a twenty-five minute walk away, and it was completely quiet, except for the one girl working the place and the faint hum of Payphone by Maroon Five (a lovely song but seriously did they have to play it every five minutes?).

“You’re buying,” Harry glared at Louis before going to see what flavors they had, although he would most likely end up getting mint chip like he always did, and Louis just shrugged willingly because he _had_ made the curly-haired boy get out of bed for this and yeah, the walk was a bit longer than he thought he would be, a fact which he would adamantly blame on his phone’s map if asked.

They both perused the flavors for a little while longer until Harry decided on mint chip (who would have guessed!) and Louis on raspberry sherbet (simply because it looked pretty), and Louis paid- because he was a gentleman- before they went to sit down at one of the empty tables.

“So, you ready for the challenge tonight, Haz?” Louis asked, shoving a large scoop of his sherbet into his mouth, eyes trained on the other lad’s lips, where his spoon was dangling slowly as he sucked the ice cream off of it. He was glad for Harry’s presence because it was distracting him from the upcoming challenge. As much as he tried to hide it, Louis was actually nervous for the challenges and Harry being there helped calm him a lot.

Harry nodded, still quietly eating his ice cream, but his eye brows were furrowed a little in the way that meant he was either worried, angry, or scared, and that made Louis worried and scared because he didn’t like when his best friend was feeling anything other than happiness. It disappeared though, the more he ate, so Louis thought that getting ice cream may have been one of his better ideas, especially if it made Harry a bit happier.

However, once Harry had gotten half way through his cup, the look was back, and he opened and closed his mouth a couple times to speak before finally, “Do you think it bothers the boys of DKE that we’re gay?”

And it made sense to Louis, that Harry would worry about this, especially because they had both been through a lot of teasing and mean pranks in high school, and it was hard to come out of that sort of thing without being at least a little wary of new people and how they feel about your sexuality. But in the terms of which Harry was speaking, Louis wasn’t worried in the slightest.

“Not at all, I mean just earlier I was playing Rate-the-Date with El and Liam, so he obviously isn’t bothered by it.”

This didn’t seem to appease Harry as he thought it would, as the pale boy’s eyebrows furrowed even more and he was now looking at Louis curiously and with an odd expression on his face, all bewildered but like angry or some other unnamable emotion.

“Liam, huh?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“How’s that going?”

“What do you mean?” Louis didn’t mean to act oblivious but for some reason he was keeping Liam from Harry, keeping him as his little secret.

“You know what I mean. Are you guys a thing yet?”

“We’re just friends.”

For some reason, the answer felt heavy on his tongue, maybe because it wasn’t really true and him and Liam were sort of becoming a thing, at least that’s what he thought and from the way Liam blushed it seemed as if he thought so too. It was a foreign thing for him to do, lying to Harry, and it left him feeling disgusting and just…off and he didn’t like it at all, but for some reason he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell Harry, not wanting to see the flash of hurt that he knew would appear in those green eyes. He knew that Harry wouldn’t be jealous, per say, but it was more like Harry was scared to lose him, which was perfectly understandable and he felt the same way whenever he saw Harry getting close with someone else, _coughZaynandNiallcough_ , so he wasn’t annoyed or anything with Harry for that. However, he wasn’t quite ready to deal with that, which maybe, sort of, kind of made him a bit selfish and a lot of an asshole, but him and Harry had been in a really good place lately and he just didn’t want to ruin that. So, he didn’t tell Harry about Liam or about how he maybe wanted to be something with the older boy and that it seemed like Liam maybe wanted to be something back, instead, he just went with the we’re-just-friends thing, and it was _completely_ a lie, just wasn’t all the way the truth.

Harry just nodded again and kept eating his ice cream, green eyes down so that Louis missed the little flash of hurt that appeared anyway.

~O~

Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh in relief or be worried for what was to come when he found out what the next challenge was. They had all met by the school field at midnight as requested, standing in their distinct three groups, and Liam had explained the challenge. It was really quite simple, all you had to do was drink a beer, then run a lap, drink a beer, then run a lap, etc. until you’ve completed an entire mile; however, you weren’t allowed to throw up. They didn’t specify what would happen if you did throw up, but Harry suspected that you failed the challenge. Niall also had added that the faster your time was the better it was for you. And yeah, the challenge sounded really easy, which meant that it was, or it was really fucking difficult. Hence, why he was simultaneously on the verge of laughing and pulling his hair out with worry.

Louis seemed to be vibrating from where he stood a little ways away, and Harry knew that he would have no problem with this because of this one time that the other boy had been piss drunk (he definitely had more than four beers), and ran all the way to Harry’s house, which was across town from the party at which Louis was (approximately four miles away, they drove it the next day to count), so needless to say, Louis definitely would get through this challenge. He wasn’t so sure about himself, seeing as he was sort of a light-weight, a fact that Louis teased him about often, but he figured that he could hold down four beers (he was pretty sure the most he had topped out at was six).

Group 1 and half of Group 2 were going first, and Harry watched as Louis chugged his beers like a pro and finished his mile in a matter of six-something minutes, excluding the time it took for him to drink the beer. Harry gave him a stealthy thumbs-up and a broad smile, their little sign these days to say ‘good job’ and Louis gave a thumbs-up back, but it was probably a ‘thanks and good luck’ one.

Harry shivered a little, cursing the fact that he forgot to bring a jacket because it was a decently chilly night and clouds were in the sky, covering up the stars and moon (not that you could see them under the LA smog), but he figured that he’d be running soon enough, so he’d warm up quick.

It wasn’t until most of the first group had finished, leaving only a few stragglers or lads puking in the bushes, that Harry noticed Zayn, okay, that wasn’t true, he had noticed him when they first walked up, so rather, that Harry finally looked over at Zayn, only to find the dark-skinned boy staring right back. He averted his eyes quickly, chanting his most recent motto, _focusfocusfocus_ , and trying to ignore the piercing gaze he felt on the side of his head. It was impossible to ignore though, and he let himself peek out of the corner of his eye to look back at Zayn, and shit, he was walking over here.

“Hey, can we talk?” Zayn asked quietly as soon as he arrived by Harry’s side, which was much quicker than he had anticipated and he wasn’t quite ready to look at or answer the older lad, especially when Zayn was so close to him, body heat emanating into Harry’s shoulder, and he almost flinched away, key word being _almost_. It felt too natural though, and Harry cursed himself for that, trying to remember that Zayn was just a stranger and it was foolish to fall too deeply for someone who he didn’t know very well at all.

And as much as he wanted to reply with an emphatic _yes_ , he found himself saying, “Sorry, I can’t. Need to do the challenge…”

Zayn nodded understandingly as Harry trailed off the end of his sentence, and Harry thought he was in the clear (what could Zayn want to talk about?), but the older boy was still there, standing so close, and he was looking at Harry thoughtfully, inspecting him as a scientist would inspect their study, and yeah, it was slightly worrying. He wasn’t used to being watched so closely, and the way Zayn was watching him made him squirm, both outwardly and inwardly.

“How about after then?” Zayn asked, still looking, but then Liam was calling for the second half of Group 2 and for Group 3 and that was Harry’s cue to go do this foolish challenge (foolish because really, c’mon now, who purposely drank and then ran a mile?), so he didn’t get to answer the older lad, but then Zayn was grasping his wrist tightly, holding him back and whispering in his ear, “Good luck.”

Needless to say, Harry didn’t remember drinking the first beer, nor running the first lap, and after that he just felt slightly woozy from the alcohol and running combined, but it wasn’t so bad as some of Group 1 had made it seem, and he felt as if he was doing quite peachy as he rounded the final stretch of the track on his last lap. He actually felt quite nice, and as Niall’s loud, uncontained whoops of encouragement pushed him on, he was surprised to find that he was one of the first ones in his group to finish the challenge. He was slightly breathless and his tummy ached a bit, but it wasn’t in the unbearable I’m-about-to-puke way, so he figured he was in the clear for this challenge.

Liam patted him on the back, Niall pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug, Louis planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek, and a few other blokes nodded their congratulations.

Zayn, however, still continued to just _look_ at him, and he scooted closer, resting a soft hand on Harry’s bicep, his fingers warm and loose, but comforting and just all around _nice feeling_ , and then, Zayn was speaking, his voice light and lilting, all melodic and _beautiful_ , and the three words he spoke, although simple and not really too meaningful, almost made him lose his resolve to just focus on the challenges.

“Good job, Haz.”

~O~


	7. Talking

“Why do you always ask me to go out for food when you want to talk about something serious?” was the first thing Niall asked upon finding Harry in the cafeteria. The question was a bit blunt, and if the blonde boy hadn’t been smiling, Harry probably would have been worried that he was mad; however, Niall was smiling, so Harry figured Niall was just curious. And it was true because whenever Harry needed to talk to the older lad, who was becoming one of his closest confidants, he always asked him to get food. For some reason it just felt like Niall was more in his element whenever he was eating, and also, the food seemed to give him some special advice powers or something weird like that.

So the curly-haired boy just shrugged, and mumbled, “I thought you liked food though, Nialler?”

Niall laughed loudly, he did love food, and proceeded to take a large bite out of one of his many sandwiches (he was hungry okay?), letting the younger lad ruminate on his thoughts. It always worked like this, Niall eating for a while and Harry sort of nibbling at whatever was on his plate, thinking at the same time. They would sit in silence, occasionally commenting on bland topics like the weather or perhaps a new song they should cover, but for the most part, Niall chewed on his food and Harry chewed on his thoughts. Eventually, though, either Niall would begin to get impatient or Harry would actually speak up, and their talk would commence.

Today was one of the eat and then talk later days, so Niall ate, enjoying his food immensely, and Harry tried to eat, but his thoughts were filling up his gut and he was too busy trying to digest his feelings, so eating wasn’t really happening by this point.

“I’m confused,” Harry finally stated, not looking up from the table, his long fingers twisting in what looked like a painful way. It had taken him a long time to speak up, and once he did, he figured there was no going back. Opening up to people wasn’t his strong suit and while he really liked Niall, it had taken him a while to actually feel comfortable enough with the blonde lad to tell him more serious things. It also took a while for him to trust the older bloke, but he was working on that. So he clarified a bit, “About Zayn, I mean.”

Niall was a little torn as to what reaction he should have, part of him wanting to say ‘finally’, another part wanting to coo at the younger lad because, well, he was kind of adorable sitting there all befuddled and looking at Niall with those big green eyes, and the last part of him was glad that he had been patient and waited for Harry to bring this topic up because Niall had been wondering about it for a long, long, _long_ time.

So, he settled for saying, “Zaynie’s a confusing one isn’t he?”

To which Harry nodded rapidly in agreement, and it really wasn’t fair for anyone to look so hurt or adorable all at once, and Niall really just wanted to cuddle him until his dimples were so prominent that it was painful to look at. It was weird to him, filling in the older brother position for someone else, as he had always been the younger one in his relationships with Liam and Zayn, even with Sean and Andy, but now, as Harry looked at him for some sort of reassurance and need he found he rather liked being relied on like this.

“So what are you confused about?” Niall questioned when Harry didn’t speak up again. He probably wasn’t the best at giving relationship advice, no that’d be Liam, maybe Sean, but he did know Zayn rather well, they had grow up together after all, so he would be able to help Harry in that sense. He knew that Zayn himself was grappling with his emotions and if anything making it harder for Harry, but at the same time, Zayn had a soft spot for Harry, one that Niall hadn’t seen in quite a few years.

Harry had finally taken a bite out of his sandwich, so he chewed, his jaw moving in precise ups and downs around the food. He took his time, and the bite had been pretty big, but also, he was about to spill some of his deepest secrets to the older bloke, and well, for him that was a pretty huge freaking deal. He knew if he needed he could have spoken to Louis about it, but his best friend had been busy and preoccupied whenever they had been together, seeming to have enough on his own mind, so Harry didn’t want to bother him with his feelings.

Harry wanted to answer Niall by stating the obvious, which would have been ‘Zayn’, but he knew that Niall already understood he was confused about Zayn, so he needed a more explanative answer.

“I just, I don’t get him,” Harry finally spoke, sighing, and he wasn’t quite able to eat any more than that one bite, so he set his sandwich back down on his plate. “Like, obviously he’s fit, but then, we hung out and I got to know him more, and well, I really liked hanging out with him. I thought he felt the same way, too, but then, well, he started getting all… _weird_ and was pulling away and I didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did and I decided to focus more on the challenges because I felt dumb and stupid because we’ve only known each other for a little while, ya know? Like how do you have feelings for someone you’ve only known for like two weeks or however long it’s been…”

Harry trailed off at the end of his rant, his shoulders sinking in part embarrassment and part relief because it felt really good to finally tell someone all of that, all of what he had been fighting with mentally for the past couple days.

Niall contemplated what the younger lad had just confessed, and he remembered the feelings he had gone through when he first laid eyes on Ed, the confusion and the unknown, especially about whether or not it was just physical or something greater than that, if it could even be something greater than that. And now, he and Ed were good, shit, they were great, and Niall knew it was more than just physical attraction. They had kept their relationship on the down low, not really wanting too much attention on it, especially because some might accuse Ed of using Niall to get into DKE, but they were really truly happy and Niall wanted Harry and Zayn to feel this happiness, too.

“Look, Haz, what you’re feeling is completely normal. I can’t say exactly what Zayn is feeling, but I can tell you that he’s confused, too, and he has a hard time with the whole talking about feelings thing; however, I think you should talk to him, tell him what you just told me. And as for the having feelings for someone you haven’t known for very long,” Niall smiled, “it’s not unusual. Sure, it takes time to see if you’re actually compatible and all that shit, but sometimes you just have this instant connection with someone and well, there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it, nor should you try.”

Niall was almost surprised by his own advice, but he was definitely happy with it because it seemed to be somewhat mature advice, at least he thought so. Harry also seemed to get something out of it because he was looking at the blonde boy as if he was a god or genius or something and his lost puppy look was gone, instead replaced by a full set of dimples.

“Nialler, do you think you could help me with something?”

~O~

Later that night, a lot later that night, Niall found himself sprawled out on Liam’s bed, cuddling with his best friend. He had helped Harry with his plan all afternoon and far into the evening and was quite happy to find it going accordingly.

“Ni?” Liam asked, stopping his hand from moving (he had been running his fingers through Niall’s hair), and Niall squirmed his head against Liam’s hand like a dog asking to be pet. The brown-haired boy had that face on, the one that meant he was worried about someone.

“Yeah, Li?” Niall mumbled back, his lips moving against the shirt over Liam’s abs, causing the bigger boy to let out a squeal because the sensation sent shivers through his body. It had been a while since they had spent quality time together (by quality he meant cuddle time) and both boys missed the time spent like this. The stresses of the quarter and being in charge of the pledging were beginning to get to them all, the younger and older lads alike, and while Niall was usually good at keeping positive, he knew that Liam was a worrier.

“Do you think Zayn is okay? He’s been really distant, and I thought him and Harry were getting along nicely, but then they had that falling out…” Liam trailed off and Niall was surprised, if anything, he thought Liam would be worrying about who would make it through the next challenge (*coughLouiscough*), or even if they were being fair about the cuts and not biased or anything, but to hear Liam voice worries about Zayn, well, that was easily fixable.

“Is that all?” Niall teased, looking up at Liam and bopping him on the nose with a finger. Liam tilted his head a bit, giving Niall those confused eyes, where his brown orbs widened exponentially until they were almost watering, and fuck, if there was one thing he loved about Liam it was how adorable he was when confused, almost like Harry, now that he thought about it.

“What do you mean? Shouldn’t I be worried?” Liam demanded, staring at Niall, who definitely knew something that he wasn’t sharing, which was odd because they shared everything. The past week had been weird because they _hadn’t_ been talking as much- usually they had nightly catch up sessions- but both of them had been busy (Liam with Louis and trying to cheer up Zayn, Niall with Ed and trying to placate Harry) so they hadn’t had those talks as often, in fact, tonight was really the first night that they had.

“I can’t tell because I promised I wouldn’t, but hopefully Zayn will be a bit happier tomorrow,” Niall replied with a small smile, and Liam’s heart warmed at the sight because he had never seen the blonde lad so… _happy_ and content. Niall was his best friend, no matter what, and to see him this way, bathing in a lightness that hadn’t ever been there, well, it made Liam happy, too.

Liam pulled Niall into a bone-crushing hug, but carefully, making sure he didn’t crush the boy, “You’ve matured Nialler,” he whispered. And then, “I’ve missed you though.”

Niall returned the hug, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of Liam- masculine, but not like a piney, woodsy scent, no just the pure Liam smell- and he wouldn’t admit it, but he had to blink back tears against Liam’s shirt, knowing how much he meant to Liam and how much the other boy meant to him, it was just so them, their friendship, their everything. It had been that way for such a long time, much like his and Zayn’s relationship, but with Liam it was something _more_ , it always had been. Not in the way that either lad wanted to _be_ more to each other, no, they had decided a long time ago that they weren’t meant to be more than best friends, but it was in this way that they just completed each other, and Niall had missed that.

“I’ve missed you, too, LiLi,” Niall replied, using his childhood nickname for the other boy. They had all grown up together- him, Liam, and Zayn- so maybe the comfort and deepness of their relationship shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, and yet, as Niall cuddled deeper into Liam’s embrace, he somehow knew that no matter what happened, everything would be all right.

~O~

Liam awoke to an incessant buzzing, which he realized moments later was simply his phone ringing, and he disentangled himself from Niall’s tight hold, slipping out of the bed and over to where his phone sat on his wooden desk. He registered the messiness of his desk and made a note to clean it the next day (even he wasn’t crazy enough to clean it that night) before picking up his phone.

“Hello?” he mumbled, pushing sleep out of his eyes with his fingers and running a hand through his messy hair, which was getting to be a bit too long and falling into his eyes, making sight a little difficult. He would definitely need a haircut soon, yet another thing to put down on his ever-growing list of things to do.

“Liam!” a voice cried through his mobile, much too awake and much too excited for Liam’s taste. He wondered for a second who in world would be this hyped up at whatever time in the morning it was (was it even morning?), but of course, he knew who it was because really, who else would it be?

“Lou, what time is it?” Liam croaked, his throat a little dry, and he made his way out of his room quietly, making sure not to wake anyone else up as he slipped on a sweatshirt and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, phone still pressed to his ear. He hated to admit it, but hearing the younger bloke’s voice through the phone made him smile and feel like a little kid again, except not because he didn’t have naughty thoughts about his friends when he was younger and he couldn’t deny that he had naughty thoughts about Louis.

“It’s adventure time,” Louis whispered softly, and Liam laughed a little too loudly, his voice bouncing around the kitchen and shocking him a little so much so that he dropped his phone and it bounced and skidded across the counter top. He could kind of hear Louis’ voice shouting through the speaker, but didn’t quite understand what he was saying until he picked the phone back up.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed that he dropped his phone- he was an athlete for godsake, he was supposed to be coordinated- and Louis laughed at him, Liam could imagine it, the feather-haired boy bending over and holding his stomach as he emitted peals of laughter. He tried to hold back a smile of his own, but it was late and he was a little slap happy, and the object of his affection was on the phone at two o’clock in the morning (he had checked the microwave clock) and he couldn’t keep back a wide grin.

“You’re grinning like a fool right now,” Louis whispered when he had finally stopped laughing and Liam froze because how the hell could Louis know what he looked like? He spun around, glancing throughout the room to see if Louis was there, but he was well and fully alone. “And now you look like a puppy chasing its tail.”

“Where are you?” Liam asked, a little breathless and dizzy from spinning around, and kind of freaked out because Louis was literally commentating everything he was doing. It was a little exhilarating, well, being with Louis was never dull, and that was part of why Liam liked him so much, for the younger lad would do things that Liam would never even think about doing, but also confusing all at once.

“Come outside, silly, it’s adventure time, remember?”

And then, Louis’ voice was gone with a click, and Liam was rushing out the front door, finding a smirking Louis standing on the front walk way, and oh, he had a clear view right into the kitchen and _that_ was how he knew what Liam was doing the entire time. He looked beautiful, bathed in moonlight and smiling widely, his eyes alight with mischief and some other emotion Liam couldn’t quite place.

Liam was stuck in the doorway for a moment, unable to move because Louis looked so spectacular it was almost painful, but the younger lad held out his hand and gestured Liam to come all the way out, and Liam wasn’t one to refuse. He had never felt this way about anyone, not even his last girlfriend, or previous flings with other boys, and it was a lot scary for him, especially as he tended to over think things and hadn’t felt so strongly about anyone other than Zayn and Niall, but for some reason, Louis made it okay.

“Come on, love,” Louis coaxed him from the door, and for some reason, the adornment made him kind of angry, well, if he could ignore the swelling in his heart, he felt angry. He stepped forward nonetheless, but his expression was tight, his lips in a line and eyebrows furrowed at the lad in front of him. It was all just so _confusing_ and he was Liam Payne and he didn’t do _confused_.

Louis seemed to sense this because he was asking, “What’s wrong, Li?”

Liam kind of froze up at this point because he didn’t really know what exactly was wrong, he just knew that he wanted Louis to be _his_ but he couldn’t quite stake a claim on the younger boy like that, as if he was just a thing. It didn’t cross his mind to ask him out officially because the two had been dancing around their feelings for a while now, twisting and turning away and together without actually touching or admitting that they were in something more complex than a simple dance.

“What are your intentions?” Liam blurted out before he could stop himself, and Louis stood still, looking Liam over with a curious gaze, but it didn’t seem scared or anything, simply curious. Liam blushed a little because he hadn’t been planning on saying anything, but if anything he could just blame it on him being tired and having a lapse in brain control- it was two in the morning after all- and it almost surprised him when he thought that he didn’t want to take back his question, he just wanted an answer.

“What are my intentions with what, Liam?” Louis asked, his voice and eyes soft in a way that Liam had only seen once before, and that was when the younger boy was looking at Harry, something he had meant to ask Louis about but had never gotten around to doing. It was in that moment that he finally understood what that softness was, and he realized it was _care_ and he didn’t really need an answer anymore because Louis’ eyes spoke it all, but it didn’t stop him from replying.

“With me.”

If possible, Louis’ gaze softened even more, and a small smile played on his lips as he stepped closer. Liam’s heart was attempting to break free from his chest, beating and screaming to be let out, and his breath held a little in his throat, as if he was admitting his feelings without really saying much at all.

“Liam,” Louis began, and he was barely aware of Louis’ hand grabbing his from where it lay limp by his side. The younger boy moved even closer and rubbed circles into his skin, soothing and calming his nerves, although it didn’t stop the sweat from building in his palms or the shiver that ran up his spine. “Will you go out to dinner with me sometime?”

Liam was really shocked by this point because if anything he had expected Louis to shout some type of feeling at the top of his lungs or maybe pull him into a sloppy, sweet kiss (no he hadn’t been imagining this situation at all), but Louis was all sincere and adoring as he asked Liam out on an actual date, and it wasn’t overly dramatic or anything he had expected, but it was everything he wanted, so he surprised himself when he surged forward, catching Louis in a short kiss before breathing out a reply.

“Yes.”

~O~

Zayn reached his room after a long day of doing absolutely nothing but holing up in his design room, creating clothes that would look spectacular on a long, lean body, and he couldn’t help it if he had imagined Harry in basically every design he drew that day. He was about to throw himself on his bed when he saw it, a piece of paper and a cd sitting on his pillow. He quickly unfolded the note and read.

_Zayn-_

_I know I’ve been confused and I’m sure you have been, too. You asked me to talk before the challenge the other day, but I’ve never been good at talking much with my words, so I guess you could say this is my way of having that talk._

_I don’t know about you, but I’ve felt things for you that I’m not used to feeling and it scares the shit out of me. I also expected things that were probably unfair to expect from someone I didn’t know very well, which is why I’m writing this to you. I think we should let expectations go, though, and just continue to get to know each other because- and correct me if I’m wrong in feeling this- I know we have this attraction to each other, but it takes time to see if something will really work and I want to take that time to find out._

_Niall told me these words earlier and they really helped me: “Sometimes you just have this instant connection with someone and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.” He’s right, completely right, and while there’s nothing I can do to stop these feelings, I realized that there’s something I can do about them._

_I know we’re going to have to talk about all of this eventually, but for now, just listen._

_-Harry_

_***_

**_Wake Me Up_ ** _: A playlist by Harry Styles accompanied by Niall Horan_

_1\. Collide by Howie Day_

_2\. Brighter Than the Sun by Colbie Caillat_

_3\. That Old Black Magic by Ella Fitzgerald_

_4\. Who’s Thinking About You Now? By Jason Mraz_

_5\. Never Say Never by the Fray_

As Harry’s voice drifted from his speakers, Niall’s guitar accompanying him softly in the background, Zayn smiled and almost laughed out loud because he felt this bubble of happiness building inside him. Harry was sharing his music with him, the younger boy had recorded a small cd for _him_ , and nothing could prepare Zayn for the feeling of elation that came with the thought that the younger boy had pulled this grand gesture simply to make things right between them.

_I'm quiet you know,_

_You make a first impression,_

_I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind._

_Even the best fall down sometimes,_

_Even the stars refuse to shine,_

_Out of the back you fall in time,_

_I somehow find,_

_You and I collide._

~O~


	8. Second Cuts

Harry didn’t see Zayn on Wednesday, holing himself up in his room to catch up on schoolwork and turning his phone off (a little scared to hear from the older boy and also not wanting the distraction of technology). It was Thursday now, and Harry couldn’t avoid Zayn forever, but even so, he made sure he showed up at the DKE house exactly on time for the second cut announcements to begin.

It wasn’t that he thought the older boy would react badly, per say, it was more that he wasn’t quite sure _how_ Zayn would react to his gesture. The older boy was quiet, much like Harry himself, and carried an air of mystery, and although Harry had gotten to know him better over the past few weeks, he still wasn’t sure how Zayn felt about silly, cheesy things like making someone a cd to relay feelings of adoration.

However, when Harry joined the ranks of his group, Zayn’s eyes immediately sought him out of the crowd, and judging from the small smile and happy glint in his brown orbs, the younger boy’s present had the exact reaction for which it was made.

Harry looked over the older boy, enjoying the way his dark jeans hung low on his hips, reaching the bottom of his leg tightly to meet black Vans, and his grey hoody slouched a little on his chest. It was a simpler outfit than usual, but Harry found it alluring, the easy way the clothes hung from the dark-haired boy’s body catching his gaze with the way they flowed seamlessly and twisted around the angles of his muscles.

His eyes finally went upward to the older lad’s perfectly gelled hair before meeting Zayn’s gaze, and he couldn’t help but grin widely as jade eyes met dark brown, locking with one another and not looking away until both Liam and Niall had finished announcing their cuts and the blonde boy coughed loudly, nudging Zayn in the side.

Zayn took no time at all, pulling a small piece of paper from the pocket of his hoody and unfolding it- if he took an extra long time he would just blame Harry for rubbing his general slowness off on him- and he cleared his throat, smiling down at the paper before looking right back at Harry.

“Harry Styles,” Zayn called out, and the curly-haired lad’s shoulder sagged in relief, glad that the older boy didn’t tease this time and quite content to grin right back at him as he called out the rest of the names.

Zayn made quick work of finishing off the list, diminishing the group of almost thirty to a group of twenty, and soon he was back to looking at Harry, his gaze suspiciously flirty and googly-eyed. The older lad had never shown affection like this, and neither had Harry really, but the way they looked at each other was getting disgustingly cuter with each passing second, and this time, Liam had to break it by whispering into Zayn’s ear and sending him back into the house to do something.

Harry hardly registered anything other than Zayn’s retreating figure until Liam began to speak again, and even then he was lost in his own little bubble of happiness and sheer joy of finally making things right between him and the older bloke. It had been painful, too painful, having a wedge between them, and he was scared to admit how much Zayn affected him, but he did and now that things were on their way to being mended, he couldn’t help but bask in the elation wrapping around him in a warm glow.

Suddenly, a hand was pinching his side and he yelped quietly as the fingers nimbly hit his most ticklish spot- right above his hip bone- and a voice was breathing softly into his ear, “Pay attention, Hazza.”

The familiar scent of Louis then hit his olfactory senses and he knocked his hip to the side, bumping his best friend teasingly before he turned his attention on Liam finally and began to listen intently to what the serious lad was saying. He caught on quickly, figuring out that Liam was about to explain the third challenge occurring the next night, and he put his full attention on the directions when they came, not wanting to get cut this far into the pledge.

“So, tomorrow, Friday night, we will all meet here at nine o’clock. From there we will depart to the club downtown, Paul’s Place, where the challenge will begin. You will have three hours, 10 to 1, to complete it. Essentially the challenge is really simple: get phone numbers, as many as you can.”

Liam stepped back, nodding his head in the little way he did, and Niall was smiling at everyone, looking like a proud daddy or whatever, and Harry felt on top of the world, his happiness almost uncontainable as he remained unperturbed by the upcoming challenge. His smile only grew when Zayn walked back out of the house, throwing cans of something at Niall and Liam. The older lad winked at Harry before turning to speak to the two other boys right next to him.

“This is going to be a piece of cake tomorrow,” Louis whispered in his ear- why he was whispering Harry wasn’t sure, as everyone around them began to talk loudly- but he had to agree with his best friend. Even if he was shy he had some weird magnet for getting numbers, from boys and girls alike, and he wasn’t very worried about the next night.

His reply to Louis was interrupted though, as Zayn let out a loud shout, Liam, Niall, Andy, and Sean (the last two had walked out with Zayn) following, and all of the rushers were immediately bombarded by the five older blokes. Zayn, of course, headed straight for Harry, lifting his bottle up and pressing the top as soon as he was in hitting range. Harry let out a delight squeal, dodging the spray of the silly string and failing as Zayn managed to fully douse him in a direct hit of the sticky, stringy substance.

Harry was glad, however, to see Zayn so unrestrained and happy, and not even silly string on his clothes could take away the happiness he felt in that moment.

~O~

“I’ve never been to this part of campus,” Harry remarked casually, taking in his surroundings with a curious gaze and watching as the buildings transformed from something familiar to unfamiliar. Campus was so big that if you didn’t have any reason to go somewhere, you would never see it, and this was one of those cases. He wasn’t even sure what department worked over here, but clearly it hadn’t been anything related to what he was studying.

“A lot of people haven’t,” Zayn replied, nodding his head as if it were to be expected as he guided the younger lad around a corner before ducking below an arch to reach a staircase that wound up the side of an old, worn down building. It was pretty though, in the European stone style, adorned differently than most of the newer American buildings. Harry could tell that Zayn felt more comfortable in this area, more in his element- his smile lighter, eyes a bit brighter, and laugh louder.

After the cut announcements and silly string war- or attack rather, as the pledges didn’t have anything with which they could fight back- most of the lads had dispersed, but Zayn sought out Harry, pulling silly string off of him and telling him to follow. They had trudged across campus until they reached the outskirts of it before reaching where they were currently.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” Harry asked, trying to stop himself from whining, but his voice had a little glint of impatience because he had never really like surprises or the unknown and currently he had no idea where they were or where they were going. Zayn seemed to love having a little edge to hold over him, though, because thus far he had refused to say anything about their destination.

“We’re almost there, Haz, sheesh,” Zayn teased him with a smirk, bopping him on the nose with a light tap of his fingers, and Harry playfully bit at the air, pretending to chomp down on his hand. There was an underlying current of seriousness though as they approached their destination, and Harry could sense that Zayn was getting a bit nervous.

But still, neither of them brought up the cd Harry had made, and neither of them seemed to be inclined to quite yet, instead, enjoying each others company, teasing and joking around, happy to finally have found a solid place in their steadily growing relationship. It was a nice relief for both of them, to be able to spend time together without being pressed by outside influences, whether they be thoughts, expectations, or friends, and it was clear that they both felt better now as their relationship settled down from the angst and drama.

“Okay, we’re here,” Zayn said, pulling out a key to unlock the first door at the top of the long staircase. Harry stopped to catch his breath (damn, there were a lot of stairs), and turned around to look out from where they were at the top of the building. The building was at least six stories, looming high above the rest of campus, and from where they stood they could see the entirety of the university, as well as some of the bustling Los Angelos city.

At mid-day nearing the end of October the weather was perfect, all sunny and warm, but not sweltering or unbearable with heat, and today was a special day because the sun could be seen high in the sky, peaking out from its usual cloud of smog, revealing bright rays and a cerulean sky.

“You coming?” Zayn questioned softly, understanding the look of awe flitting across the younger lad’s face, after all, he saw this view almost every day and he never quite got used to the pure beauty of the sight, but also wanting to show Harry why they were actually here. He slipped his hand through the younger bloke’s larger one, squeezing it softly and tugging him toward the door and away from the view.

Harry followed easily, reveling the feeling of Zayn’s hand in his and grinning stupidly at the little, seemingly thoughtless gesture. It always surprised him, how happy something so small could make him, but whenever Zayn did something like this, like holding his hand, well, he couldn’t contain his grin and didn’t even attempt to.

Immediately they were both hit with the smell of new fabrics, and Harry could see why, his eyes flitting from the fabrics on the wall to cut fabrics on the table to clothing on mannequins.

“Is this- is this your studio?” Harry asked quietly, and this sight was a million times better than the one outside because this was Zayn in his very essence. It was Zayn’s handiwork and his creativity, his being and his mind. The curly-haired boy didn’t even realize that he had dropped Zayn’s hand as he began to walk around the room, careful not to touch anything or mess up the carefully placed outfits and fabrics. Some pieces were finished, hanging from mannequins or folded up precisely and stacked on shelves, while other were in the in between stages, being sewn or cut, and others yet were just being drawn, still a figment of the imagination, stuck between reality and the mind.

Zayn didn’t answer his question, fairly certain that Harry already knew it was, in fact, his studio and where he spent most of his time. He opted instead to watch the curly-haired boy as he walked from table to table, fingers ghosting over the materials but not quite touching them, a look of pure contentment and sheer joy radiating from his eyes. Harry looked young, like a child in a candy shop, and Zayn had to remind himself that he was actually three years younger. He often forgot about the age difference because Harry was so quiet and reserved, any immaturities not showing immediately, but as he watched the younger boy peruse the room, he found he was glad Harry was younger and that he hadn’t lost the childlike joy as most of the older students had. Of course, it wasn’t that they couldn’t find happiness, but rather they were encumbered by the thoughts of leaving university and really, truly entering the real world. Harry wasn’t weighed down by any of that though, and his presence was refreshing, making it easier for Zayn to breathe and relax.

“This is amazing, Zee,” Harry breathed out, and Zayn was glad because he had been a little scared to show this part of him. Designs were a very personal thing, much like poetry or music, and he hadn’t even shown Liam or Niall his studio, opting instead to take pictures of a few of his best pieces and show them those.

However, after listening to the cd Harry made and realizing that not only was the younger lad making a statement of his affections, but also trusting Zayn with a personal part of himself, he wanted to do the same. He couldn’t say he had thought of the idea himself, no, Andy took credit for that, but it was a good one, and it seemed to have the effect he intended, as Harry walked around the room, feeling closer than ever to the mysterious older bloke.

Zayn nodded in response to Harry’s compliment, never one to deal with praise very well, and his eyes locked with Harry’s, drinking in the hungry gaze with which Harry stared.

“I wanted to share,” he offered, mouth upturning into a small smile as the curly-haired lad made his way around the tables over to where he sat on a bench. It could have been their downfall, both being slightly reserved, but it seemed to be working out quite all right, as they found other ways than words to show their feelings. He agreed with Harry’s note, wanting to take the time to see if they were truly compatible and lose any expectations for their relationship, but he also wanted to show the younger boy that he wasn’t alone in his feelings, and they did have a special connection.

And as much as he wanted to just show Harry how he felt with his actions, he also knew it would be good if he said them aloud. Harry seemed to sense his hesitation and slipped their hands back together, their fingers folding against one another like a puzzle.

“Thank you for the cd,” Zayn murmured, gazing at the curly-haired lad below his lids, which fluttered slightly with emotion. He reached up with his free hand to brush a curl from Harry’s eyes, and the younger lad sunk into the touch of Zayn’s hand, letting out a low groan as he twirled the curl between his fingers. Harry’s eyes were closed, his breathing heavy, and Zayn had never seen the younger boy look so unrestrained or beautiful.

He wished he were an artist, able to catch the planes and ridges of Harry’s image with a camera or a paintbrush, saving this moment for eternity. The younger boy’s beauty was effortless, his pale skin unblemished and curls messy but soft, and his image alone was enough to halt the breath in Zayn’s chest and quicken his heart rate. He wanted to freeze all of the moments they spent together so that he’d always have a piece of the curly-haired boy, a moment of the memories to say for later. He had stopped trying to get Harry out of his mind because it seemed the younger boy had infiltrated every nook and cranny of his mind.

He just didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky as to have Harry in his life, not that he was complaining.

Harry broke the moment, opening his eyes and locking jade with brown. They surveyed each other for a split second, but it felt like hours as they watched each other, time moving ever so slowly.

“What are you thinking about?”

Zayn’s answer was immediate and fell off of his tongue easily.

“You.”

The smile Harry gave him in response was blinding and it made Zayn feel like Superman or a Space hero or something of the ilk. Knowing he was responsible for such beauty was astounding, unreal, and he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, that this was his reality and he wasn’t dreaming.

He couldn’t even bring himself to break the moment by kissing Harry, not wanting to ruin the extra sparkle in the air that surrounded them, and as much as he wanted to kiss him, well, he restrained, returning the smile softly and tugging Harry off the bench to show him one of the shirts he designed recently.

He sent a quick thanks up to the heavens, showing his appreciation for whatever Fates decided it was right for his and Harry’s paths to collide because he hadn’t been this happy in a long time and he really didn’t want to mess this up.

In the end, it was Harry who made the first move, stopping him from rambling about a new creation with a quick kiss on the lips before moving to whisper in his ear.

“I think about you all the time, too.”

~O~

[Group MMS: From: Niall Horan 9:30 PM- To: Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Harry Styles]

**I got a gig this Saturday at the bar downtown…8 PM. U guys r invited!**

~O~


	9. The Third Challenge and Third Cuts

“Haz, you almost ready to- Oh. Uh. Wow. Hi,” Zayn’s question got stuck in his throat as he pushed Harry’s dorm room door open after knocking in warning (the lad had it propped open slightly, though, so he was able to let himself inside). He wasn’t quite prepared for the sight in front of him, like yeah, shit, he expected Harry to dress up a little, Liam had told all of the rushers to wear nice-ish clothing appropriate for a night out, but this, well, this far surpassed _nice_ and was verging on plain _mean_ (which really meant that Zayn didn’t want Harry to be wearing them at all, or rather, the older boy wanted to tear them off because damn did he look delectable).

“Wow? That’s all you have to say?” Harry snorted, fiddling with the hem of his black t-shirt as if uncomfortable with what he was wearing, or maybe it was just the look Zayn was giving him. He had gone with the ‘badboy’ look, as Louis would call it, wearing his black skinny jeans, a soft black shirt, and a deep charcoal leather jacket. The only item not some shade of black was the trademark white converse adorning his large feet.

To Zayn, the outfit did make the curly-haired lad look a little more ‘dangerous’ (Louis would have approved of the description), but more than just that, it was alluring, making Zayn’s inside go all _sexsexsex_ and _wantwantwant_ , and his mind to go blank and the words disappear from his mouth. Yeah, he always knew Harry was attractive, but the younger boy had always had an effortless look, his outfits often a bit askew, maybe mismatched, and it worked, for him at least. Now, however, as Harry stood in front of him in an outfit that was obviously carefully planned and thought out, well, it was sinful and Zayn was glad the younger boy didn’t try very hard normally because if he did…well, it just wouldn’t have been good for either of them (and with his implication of it being bad he definitely meant very, very good, that is, if staying holed up inside without clothes on could be considered good. Although he might make Harry put clothes on, just so that he could tear them off).

Harry was still standing there, getting more nervous the longer Zayn stared and failed to respond, but the older boy just couldn’t quite form the right words, all of his thoughts leaving his brain as he continued to blatantly eye-fuck the lad in front of him.

“Yeah, uhm, wow,” Zayn tried again, and when he still wasn’t able to form a complete sentence he settled on whistling between his teeth, an act often taken as offensive if done at the wrong time or person (such as at a girl on the sidewalk while driving by with your mates), but in this case, taken as a compliment by Harry, who was beginning to grasp just how mind-blown the older lad was in that moment.

Zayn, as a designer, often played with colors, matching brights with other brights, and darks with lights, but he often stayed away from the dark on dark, fearing the outfit may appear as morbid, or too depressing, not quite catching the eye of the viewer, but seeing Harry in an all dark outfit made him think of new possibilities, and yeah, he was now straying from thoughts of sex right into design, but it was something he often did.

He stopped these thoughts before they could go any further, cataloguing the idea in the back of his mind for later use, and focused back on the bloke in front of him, smiling a soft, little smile reserved specifically for Harry.

“You gonna be jealous tonight, Malik?” Harry teased, spreading his arms open and doing a little twirl. Of course, his spin only caused his jeans to fall down a little on his arse, revealing dark navy boxers (and was there a color theme here or something?) and a slip of pale skin, leaving Zayn to only groan in response. Even though they had only kissed for the first time the day previous, seeing Harry like this, all sexed up looking, made Zayn want to go much further than that. He refrained, though, pushing back those naughty thoughts and instead stepping forward to kiss the curly-haired boy softly.

“You look great,” he murmured, ignoring the taunt and letting their lips brush together and his warm breath fan across Harry’s face sweetly, intoxicatingly, until Harry was becoming a shivering mess in his arms. Although Zayn was a few inches shorter, he felt as if he were the protector in the relationship, Harry’s frame thinner and leaner, and yeah, he’d definitely be topping, and what did he just think?

He mentally backtracked, going once more from thinking about sex to a less serious mental topic (like puppies and rainbows and not Harry naked and flowers and how Harry might have reacted if he had brought roses and they should go on an actual date and a new design), but Harry was then pulling him closer and deepening the kiss and it was really hard to think about anything other than _fuckthisfeelsgood_.

“Okay, we should go,” Zayn pulled back, breathless and not looking into Harry’s jade eyes that had darkened with want. He kept his hands tangled in Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on the curls there, and neither of them moved an inch, torn between needing to leave and not wanting to go.

Harry sighed in his shoulder, burrowing his curls even further against Zayn’s body. Truth was, Zayn wasn’t really looking forward to tonight’s challenge, so he pulled the younger boy tighter to him, not wanting to let him go quite yet. He knew it would be hard, watching the younger boy flirt and get numbers, but he was fairly confident Harry would pass the challenge. As long as he stayed with Niall and Liam and didn’t watch Harry…well, everything would be fine. He could control himself, right?

“Don’t wanna go,” Harry mumbled into Zayn’s shirt, and it was a nice reassurance, knowing the younger lad wasn’t any more excited for this challenge than Zayn. Zayn looked at his phone, seeing it was only 7:42, a little over 15 minutes before they had to be meeting at the house.

“How about we make use of your bed for a good ten minutes first,” Zayn suggested, biting Harry’s earlobe softly before kissing below his curls. Harry immediately straightened up at the idea, tugging Zayn to the bed where he fell on his back unceremoniously, pulling the older boy onto his lap with a cute desperation.

They definitely made use of their time, hitting snooze on the alarm Zayn set until they were surely going to be late and had to run all the way to the house, but before they reached the groups, Zayn pulled Harry to the side and sucked a large mark right above his shirt line before fixing the younger lads curls and straightening out his jacket.

“You’re mine,” Zayn murmured, kissing Harry softly and indicating they should join everyone else. “Don’t forget that tonight.”

~O~

“What’s a guy like you doing here?”

Harry glanced up from his drink, swirling his straw around the brightly colored liquid to meet the curious gaze of the bartender. He was young, obviously at least twenty-one but couldn’t be older than twenty-five, and wore a tightly fitted, black button down buttoned to his neck. His smile was welcoming, though, and he had a slight English accent.

It was about two hours into the challenge, and it was safe to say that Harry would most likely be making it through this round, having collected various numbers (he couldn’t even remember how many but had a bulk of papers and napkins in his pockets) from both blokes and birds alike. He really just wanted to be out of the place- it was too sweaty and humid in the room, not to mention he felt a little dirty around all of the not-so-subtley-dancing couples. It was bad enough that he had spent the majority of the time turning his charm up a notch and flirting with multiple people (sometimes people just slipped them a number), but he had also been mistaken for a call-boy. Like seriously? Him?

“What do you mean ‘a guy like me’?” Harry asked, looking back down at his drink (some fruity, girly concoction that tasted sweeter than it did alcoholic), and glancing back up at the bartender.

“I’m Olly,” the lad offered with a smile, still studying Harry as if he were a scientific experiment. Olly expertly mixed drinks, sliding down the bar for a bit without answering his question as he took orders from a couple groups. He had quite a few drinks to make, judging from the size of the group, so Harry turned back around to study the dance floor and to find Zayn, Niall, and Liam.

He found Louis on the dance floor, poorly grinding with a girl and hiding a grimace (dancing with girls had never been too fun for him), and not a second later, he found the older lads, sitting at a table, joking and laughing loudly.

Liam and Niall seemed to be watching Louis, judging from Niall’s pointing arm and failed attempt to hide his laughter, and Liam, watching curiously and also seeming a little…possessive even.

Zayn was sitting back against the red leather of the booth, one arm casually slung across it, a semi-amused smirk on his lips. He didn’t seem to be enjoying himself as much as the other lads with whom he was sitting, and Harry immediately worried that it had something to do with him. He didn’t want to seem presumptuous or cocky, but he had felt the way the older lad’s arms had tightened around him, and he had the mark to prove some sort of possessiveness on his neck. He just hoped Zayn realized that Harry was all his, and probably had been since the moment his jade eyes caught sight of the dark-haired bloke.

As if Zayn could hear his thoughts, the older lad immediately sought Harry out, their gaze locking across the club, and immediately, Zayn’s smirk turned into a more genuine smile, albeit a small one, but still, it was present and it was _real_. Zayn’s dark eyes flicked down, and Harry let his fingers fall on his collarbone in question, the older boy’s nod an indicator that yes, indeed, he was staring at the blooming bruise that had been sucked into his skin. He let his fingers dance there- on his skin- for a moment, enjoying the way he could make Zayn’s eyes narrow and body shift as he pressed fingers to the marked spot.

“Yours,” Harry mouthed silently, hoping Zayn would understand his conveyed message. He watched as Zayn’s hand fell into his lap, presumably adjusting his pants, and Harry felt a slight bit of satisfaction knowing he could do that to Zayn with such a simple act. He had never really seen himself as sexy or too physically attractive. He knew he wasn’t _ugly_ by any means, but no one had ever really _wanted_ him for more than a cuddle, or perhaps a relationship (not that he hadn’t had his fair share of one night stands). Not only did the people slipping him their numbers at this club help change his thoughts about himself, but also, Zayn did, too, making him feel sexy and fit (although not enough for him to flaunt himself).

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Harry turned back to the bartender, who had finally finished up with the orders and was now leaning against the counter, and as he did so, he missed the slight frown that appeared on Zayn’s face as their gaze broke.

“Erm- I, well, no?”

The statement came out as more of a question because he really wasn’t quite sure what him and Zayn were- it hadn’t come up yet- and he wasn’t even sure if he was ready to have that conversation just now, right after they finally made things right between them. Not to mention, he was a little scared that Zayn might think he was rushing things or expecting things the older boy wasn’t ready to offer. He thought back to what he just mouthed Zayn ( _yours_ ), though, and it was true, he was fully Zayn’s and no one else’s, but calling Zayn his boyfriend felt foreign and strange, both aloud and in his mind.

“He’s giving me the fuck-eye right now, you sure you’re not? Or has it just not come to that quite yet?” Olly didn’t seem to be put off by the fact that Zayn was glaring at him, and Harry was surprised when the lad guessed exactly what was going on between him and Zayn.

So far, he had gotten a couple of questioning gazes from some of the other pledges, but no one had really asked him directly about it, instead, opting to whisper quietly to each other, particularly earlier that night when he and Zayn had arrived, panting, with their clothes slightly mussed up, and Harry’s collarbone glaringly bruised. They made sure not to be touching as they walked up, but it was fairly obvious what they had just been doing, and Harry saw the disapproving glare Liam gave Zayn as he joined him and Niall in the front of the groups.

“Hasn’t quite come to that yet, I guess,” Harry mumbled, feeling a little shy about the whole deal and not knowing exactly what to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Zayn to be his boyfriend cause god, the thought of it sent a rampage of tingles down his spine and a hoard of butterflies through his stomach, but he wasn’t too good at voicing this thought and wanted to stick to what he wrote in his note to Zayn (no expectations, just get to know each other, see if we’re compatible).

“Ah, so you’re fuck buddies, then?” Olly asked, looking seriously confused, and what? Was it that hard to believe that he might have a fuck buddy? Not that he would, well, usually he wouldn’t ever, but still, what was it about him that just screamed innocent lately? He thought his outfit tonight was enough to take away from that image, and believed it to have worked when Zayn couldn’t take his eyes off of him, but almost every single person he spoke with tonight slipped him their number and offered to have dinner or go to the movies, one girl even offered to go get fucking manicures together (he almost took her up on that offer though cause damn could those people give good hand massages…not that he had, you know, ever gotten a manicure…).

“No, not that either,” Harry replied quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Zayn more than anything.

“Well, I got to go back to work, uhm-“ Olly started, raising his eyebrows at the curly-haired bloke in front of him.

“Harry,” he supplied.

“Harry,” Olly continued, whipping a towel around a couple times before wiping the counter off. He then proceeded to mix another drink, slipping it in front of Harry along with a piece of paper. “If you need any help figuring out your lover boy situation, feel free to call me and I can help you sort it out, as a friend of course, wouldn’t want my boyfriend to get jealous either.”

Olly sashayed away with a welcoming smile and a sway of his hips, leaving Harry grinning as he read the numbers spelled out in small, neat print on the slip of paper.

~O~

“Look at Louis try to dance with that bird,” Niall laughed, nodding to the dance floor where Louis was sort of swaying his hips in an awkward penguin waddle (if you could even call it that), his hands barely brushing against the girl’s waist, as his lips turned into a grimace of disgust. The other boys immediately followed Niall’s gaze, and yeah, Louis was a lot ridiculous looking. It was hard for Niall to grasp how the girl didn’t even realize that Louis wasn’t into her at all, and not amount of grinding would change that.

“He looks miserable,” Liam observed, watching the movement of Louis’ hips, and blushing faintly as he remembered other things the younger bloke could do with them. He pushed those thoughts away, though, because he was with his friends and shouldn’t be thinking about it, and laughed a little nervously, both because he was slightly uncomfortable with Louis out on the dance floor (even if it was with a girl and he didn’t look to be enjoying himself) and also because he hadn’t explicitly told his friends about their relationship yet.

“She’s pretty fit,” Zayn voiced, but Niall could tell he wasn’t really thinking about the girl, if the way his eyes flickered back and forth between Louis and his dance partner and the curly-haired bloke who was standing at the bar.

“Harry’s looking pretty fit tonight as well,” Niall commented, looking at his younger friend, who seemed to be engaged in a conversation with the young bartender. He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with Harry the day before- Zayn had whisked him away before the blonde got the chance- and from the looks of it (if their entrance earlier had been any indicator), Zayn and Harry were getting along quite nicely. Of course, Niall really wanted to hear the words come from either Zayn or Harry’s mouths, but Zayn wasn’t one to talk so soon and Harry took equally long with sharing information.

“Yeah, the rest of the club seems to agree,” Zayn spit out, swirling the beer around his cup in short, measured movements. He didn’t meet either of his friend’s eyes, looking down at the table in a huffy, tantrum-like way, before leaning back again, throwing his arm up over the top of the booth and effortlessly looking casual again, as if he hadn’t just made that clearly spiteful comment.

Liam raised his eyebrows.

“Jealous there, Zaynie?” Niall taunted, but Zayn didn’t fall into his teasing trap as he looked back softly, brown eyes narrowed in the way that made him look as if he were always high. The blonde could see the slight jiggle of his leg though, which probably indicated more than his reply.

“No,” Zayn retorted shortly, turning away from Niall and Liam to look at Louis, who had now switched partners and was doing some sort of silly jig, looking much happier than he had previously. The club was packed with people, and Zayn was a little disgusted with the lack of clothing on the women, and perverted leers of the men. It definitely wasn’t his scene- he preferred low key house parties- and he didn’t understand how people could really find pleasure from such a place.

“It’s okay if you are, you know, Zee,” Liam said softly, his expression unreadable.

“I’m _not_ ,” Zayn tried again, not believing himself as he tried to convince his friends.

He caught Harry staring at him, though, and his thoughts were lost as his gaze fell on his mark, yes, _his_ , and then on Harry’s long, pale fingers, as they toyed with the bruise. He could imagine how the younger lad’s jade eyes would darken with want, and fuck, he squirmed in his seat as he felt his jeans tighten. Harry mouthed ‘yours’ at him, and well, that was enough to make his cock stiffen even more, fuck, how did he make his lips look so sinfully innocent?

But then, Harry was turning away, and Zayn’s eyes narrowed as the bartender stole Harry’s attention away from him.

“Sure you aren’t jealous, Zee?” Niall asked, holding back a laugh, no doubt at the dark-haired boy’s expense.

Zayn sighed, “Shut up, Nialler.”

“I mean, I’m just saying, if looks could kill…” Niall trailed off as Zayn turned his fiery gaze on the blonde. Niall was often on the receiving end of the dark-haired lad’s glares, though, so he wasn’t fazed by the angry look.

“I’m not jealous,” Zayn maintained.

“It’s okay Nialler,” Liam said, pulling Niall into his side. “Zayn isn’t jealous, the bartender isn’t hitting on Hazza, Louis enjoys grinding with girls, and I’m not feeling tipsy from my one drink. I guess the doctor never said I would have a higher alcohol tolerance though, just because I have two kidneys now.”

~O~

“Okay,” Liam called out, silencing the groups with one effective word.

They had just arrived back at the house and everyone was visibly tired, except for Louis, who seemed to bouncing off the walls with energy, and even the three older lads look exhausted- it had been a long week.

“We’re doing the third cuts right now,” Niall continued, his usual bubbly smile diminishing slightly with the groans of everyone in front of him. Cuts were never fun, not only for him, Liam, and Zayn, but also the pledges. It was hard, ruining someone’s dream, and it was also hard for some of the lads to get their dream taken away from them just because of one challenge.

“You’ve all kept the numbers, I assume,” Zayn began, and almost every boy shifted on their feet, pulling out handfuls of papers and napkins, occasionally pushing their arm out to show the faint outlines of a black pen or marker.

“If you received the number of a male, please step forward,” Liam announced, watching as confusion spread through the crowd. It didn’t stop people from stepping to the front, though, and a handful of lads stood in front of the rest of the groups, including Louis, Harry, and Ed. There were probably a good thirty to forty boys who had stepped forward, leaving about half of the pledges behind them.

“You guys have made it through the third challenge, congratulations,” Niall finished, nodding his approval at the smaller group of lads in front of him.

“However, you need to give us at least one number of one of the male’s who gave it to you, so that we can make sure you weren’t lying, so go to your respective group leader, and get in line,” Liam explained, pulling three clipboards out of a backpack so that they could write names and numbers down to check that no one was lying.

“Sorry lads,” Zayn looked at the boys who were cut with sympathetic eyes. “Thank you for your effort, maybe we’ll see some of you next year.”

The group of cuts look angry, some of them crying softly or talking in hushed voices to one another, no doubt about how the challenge was unfair. The three leading boys felt a little bad, knowing they had tricked a lot of people, but the thing was, it had to be done. Cuts were not always fair, as Zayn, Liam, and Niall remembered from their pledging, and this challenge was similar to ones done in the past.

And now there was only one more challenge left.

~O~


	10. The Gig

“Knock, knock?” Harry announced, rapping his knuckles against the side of the doorframe of the backstage part of the bar. Niall was sitting on a ratty couch, his guitar on his lap as he jiggled his legs up and down, the movement bouncing his instrument up against his body. He looked unusually quiet, a sight Harry wasn’t used to seeing, and he was pale, at least more than usual. It was about ten minutes before his set, and Harry was stopping by to tell the lad good luck.

The gig was at a local bar- much more mellow than the club they had been at the previous night- and all of the boys- Zayn, Harry, Liam, and Louis- had come to support Niall. It wasn’t his first gig, but it was one of his first major gigs, so it was a big accomplishment, as well as a nerve-wracking experience.

“Shit,” Niall muttered, bending over to pick up the pick he just dropped on the floor for the fifth time. He hadn’t seen Harry there and was too busy imagining all of the things that could go wrong with his set, so the sudden presence of the younger lad scared the shit out of him. It didn’t help that he was nervous, like gut-wrenching, stomach-achingly nervous, more nervous than he ever had been for a gig of any type.

“How ya feeling, Nialler?” Harry asked, moving to sit next to the blonde lad and taking his guitar at the same time. The curly-haired boy began strumming the guitar, a series of soft, soothing chords, and Niall looked at him in surprise, wondering when Harry learned how to play. He obviously knew a decent amount, as he had the ability to make a melody effortlessly, fluidly, and it appeared that he was just a bag full of surprises, as he began to sing along with the instrument.

Niall sank back into the couch, enjoying the lilting tones of Harry’s low voice, the notes rising and falling in a way that only a natural musician could make them. He was a little jealous of Harry’s ability, but in that moment, he was in awe of it, the ease and beauty of the younger lad’s playing and singing like nothing else he had ever heard.

He forgot about his nervousness and all of the worries he had been experiencing just moments before, and remembered exactly why he was here, what he wanted to accomplish, tonight with this gig, as well as in his life time.

It was about the music.

It always had been, but hearing Harry as he strummed and sang a nameless tune (an original maybe?) reminded him of that, how he wanted nothing more than to be a musician and to do exactly what Harry was doing in that moment, but to the world.

He wanted to evoke _feelings_ from deep within people, make them laugh and cry and sing along without a care in the world.

Harry’s voice rose and fell another time before coming to a halt with the end of the chord progression, leaving Niall to reminisce in the leftover melody that still hung around the room.

“Thanks, Haz,” Niall whispered, opening his eyes, afraid to break the spell Harry cast over the room. The mood was delicate, in the lightest, freest, happiest of ways, and the blonde lad felt it could shatter immediately, with a shout or even a jerky movement. He was hesitant, even, as he lifted his arm, placing it on Harry’s shoulder in a simple touch that expressed everything left unsaid- the thank you, you’ve become a really close friend, I needed you tonight, and I’m glad you came back here. It was an unusual way for Niall to express his feelings, usually he did so with his voice or eyes, but he found it conveyed his message just as effectively, perhaps more so.

Harry smiled back at him, a wide, lip-splitting smile that showed almost all of his pearly white teeth, and it reached his eyes, lighting up the green with specks of a joy Niall hadn’t seen before, a least not in Harry’s eyes. He saw it in his parent’s eyes when they looked at each other, and in his grandparent’s eyes, but this was the first time he had really seen it in one of his friend’s eyes.

“So things with Zayn are good, then?” Niall asked, because what else could it be, other than _lovelovelove_ , or something leading up to it. He had wondered about this, about Zayn and Harry, because after helping Harry record the cd for Zayn, he hadn’t really asked the younger lad about it, not that he really had the chance to in the past couple of days, especially with how busy they all were.

Judging by Harry’s face, as his wide grin fell into a softer, smaller smile, things were definitely good, and could possibly be judged as great, stunning, amazing.

Harry looked to be thinking something over, or remembering something rather, and the two fell into a comfortable silence before Niall reached over to take the guitar back from the curly-haired lad, pulling it into his own lap and running his fingers across the strings. He then began to play the guitar parts of his set, feeling surprisingly relaxed now, as his hands moved easily from chord to chord without shaking.

“I really like him, Nialler,” Harry blurted out loudly, a complete one-eighty from any mood he had set earlier, but somehow, it fit right into the mood now, his confession bright and warm and happy, just the vibe Niall needed for his set. He could tell that Harry was scared, probably nervous, but also that the younger lad had accepted his feelings and was facing them head on.

Before he could respond, though, the manager of the bar came into the room.

“It’s time,” he said gruffly with a welcoming nod to Niall and Harry.

Niall stood, sliding his guitar strap across his shoulder and neck, receiving Harry’s soft, whispered, “good luck,” with a nod and a smile.

It was time.

~O~

Harry joined the other lads at their booth, slipping in beside Louis and across from Zayn, who was sitting next to Liam. They had clearly had a few drinks, if the flush on both Louis and Zayn’s faces was any indicator, and even Liam looked to be nursing a drink, although it looked much like the one Harry had been drinking the other night, all colorful and fruity looking, very pretty really.

He had arrived right before Niall slipped onto stage, and Louis was in the middle of some story, his voice boisterous and silly, as per usual. Harry didn’t really pay attention to it much, choosing to look out over the crowd of people (there was a surprisingly decent amount of people in the bar, which was a good thing for Niall’s publicity), as well as at Zayn, who was listening to Louis’ story with a mild interest. Of course, he didn’t look too engrossed in the story, and his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, most likely on a new design, Harry assumed, because the dark-haired lad was sketching something on a napkin.

The club quieted when the blonde lad took the stage, even Louis stopped mid-sentence, giving their friend the respect he deserved.

Niall started his gig off simply, beginning with an introduction of himself and his first couple of songs before he immediately began to play because really, he was here to play music, not entertain people with his talking. His first song was an original, one with a complex guitar plucking part and very little vocals, but when he did begin to sing, it was with a strong, clear, confident voice.

“I didn’t know he could sing that well,” Louis whispered into Liam’s ear, but Harry and Zayn could hear as well because Louis was a shit whisperer. It was kind of weird, seeing Louis that close to Liam, but the curly-haired lad wasn’t able to think about the topic for long because Niall had just finished his first song and was searching across the crowd until he found their table, and Harry was smiling and giving him a thumbs-up.

Niall seemed to need the encouragement because he took a deep breath and began playing the next tune, eyes still locked with Harry’s, who just nodded in time, mouthing the lyrics along with Niall as he sang them. Harry had worked on the set with the blonde, giving him a couple tips for the vocals- Niall was primarily a guitar player and just dabbled a little in singing, so he took the friendly criticism openly.

Harry focused on Niall’s performance, ignoring the rest of Louis’ loud whispers and only glancing away from the stage to sneak peaks at Zayn, who had abandoned his drawing to listen Niall with his full attention as well. The curly-haired lad stayed like that for half of Niall’s set, glancing between the stage and Zayn, soaking up the rich tone of Niall’s guitar and the added light melody his voice provided.

Well, he stayed like that until a foot hit his, and at first he thought it was just an accident because if it were Zayn he would have known by a little smirk on the dark-haired boy’s face, but it wasn’t Zayn because he was still looking at Niall, eyes closed and half-lidded with the heaviness of the music. That meant it was either Louis or Liam, and Harry assumed it would be Louis, except his best friend was sitting sideways to Harry’s body, which would have made it very difficult to face his foot forward- as the foot now stroking his foot was facing- and he didn’t suspect Louis would make himself overly uncomfortable all in the name of a good laugh, which mean it had to be Liam?

Harry was certainly perplexed, but he shook to foot off, and judging from the questioning gaze Liam shot toward Louis he had guessed whose foot it was correctly. But why would Liam be looking at Louis like that, much less trying to play fucking footsie with him?

Harry shot Liam one more glance before turning back to the stage, once more mouthing the words of the song Niall was singing. It wasn’t until Niall played his last song and was standing, giving the crowd a little bow, to which he received loud clapping and shouts for an encore, and Harry was standing along with Zayn, Louis, and Liam, clapping obnoxiously and whistling loudly, that Harry realized why Liam had been trying to play footsie with him.

The worst part of it all was that he realized it by watching Louis lean over to press a sloppy, wet kiss to Liam’s lips, and then, the world kind of stopped, the club quieted around him, and he was left in the glaringly empty silence of his mind.

He had been turning around to tell Liam about how the last song Niall played was based off of their friendship- Liam and Niall’s- and how much it meant to the blonde boy, but instead, he watched his best friend kiss the older boy.

When did this happen?

Harry didn’t know what to think, he barely even realized that he had stopped clapping, although he had turned away immediately, unable to keep the image from his mind. It was weird, the numbness that sat over him like a fog, heavy and innumerable, unshakable. He was so used to having Louis to himself, and while he had known Louis was distracted as of late, well, he just didn’t realize _why_ his best friend had been so distracted. He couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt, knowing that Louis obviously was in some form of a relationship with Liam- and from the looks of it, a serious one- and hadn’t even mentioned anything to him. They had been best friends for a long, long time, and never once had Louis withheld information such as this, no, that was Harry, always Harry.

Louis was the one who gushed on and on about how much he liked someone and what they did together and about their dates.

Harry was the one who had to be gently coaxed for information, sometimes even bribed.

It could have been seen as hypocritical, but that was just how they worked.

Louis talked and Harry listened.

And now, with the tables turned, Harry wondered if this was how Louis felt every time he failed to share something.

What hurt most, though, was that Harry had told Louis about Zayn, just the night before after the challenge, and Louis had sat there without a word about his own relationship. Maybe he was entitled to it, surely they didn’t have to tell each other _everything_ , but Harry had foolishly thought Louis would have mentioned it, mentioned _this_.

He was still in a daze when Niall joined them at the table, but he caught Zayn’s eyes and saw the worry in them. It was then that he realized just how odd he must have been acting, and he shot the dark-haired lad a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and wasn’t quite believable, but apparently real enough for Zayn to drop the questioning to give Niall a congratulations.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Louis announced, pressing another kiss into Liam’s lips, this time softly, and yeah, there was definitely something more serious going on here, something that stabbed a hole in a portion of Harry’s heart. “Scoot out, Hazza.”

It might have been Louis’ light, jocular tone, or perhaps the twinkle in his eyes, so innocent and naïve, unknowing of the feelings going through Harry’s body like a tornado, but with the familiar adornment, Harry felt something inside of him snap- perhaps that part of his heart, the one Louis held- and he found himself mumbling that he had to use the loo as well.

*

“What the fuck, Louis?” Harry exclaimed the first moment he could. He had waited until they both used the restroom, standing side by side in the open cubicles, and even until they had both washed and dried their hands, but the second Louis went to open the door, going on and on about some chick he had met the night before, well, Harry couldn’t help but stop his rambling.

He could feel his hands shaking by his side and he knew his face was red, not from alcohol- he hadn’t had anything other than Pepsi the entire night- but rather from rage.

It was a deep, simmering feeling, glowing hot and burning at his insides, setting his gut on fire and trickling out of control until it lit his chest as well, making it hard to breath under the ember of hurt.

Louis only fueled the fire though, as he turned to Harry, not even realizing why the curly-haired boy was mad. His cerulean eyes were still twinkling in a way that made Harry want to hit something, punch something, do _anything_ but stand there, watching his best friend drift away from him.

“What?” Louis asked slowly, as if Harry were out of control- perhaps he was- or even worse, as if he were a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, which he kind of was. He swept a hand through his feathered hair, sweeping it until it fell perfectly above his forehead, messily organized in carefully measured way.

He really had no idea why Harry was even angry, but Harry was too far gone, ensnared by some witches spell.

“What? What do you _mean_ what?”

“What do _I_ mean what? Why are _you_ looking at me like I killed your goddamn puppy?”

“Are you shitting me right now, Louis?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about! And why are you using my full name?”

“Since when do you keep things from me, huh?”

“What have I kept from you?”

“I don’t fucking know! Because apparently I don’t seem to know you too well anymore! So much for being best fucking friends and becoming _brothers_!”

“Haz! What is this about?”

“What the fuck do you think this is about?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“…”

“Haz…?”

“Don’t touch me, Louis. You have _Liam_ for that.”

“…”

“…”

“Is that what this is about? Liam?”

“…”

“Harry…”

“…”

“I wanted to tell you, I really did…”

“…”

“I just…I dunno, it never came up?”

“Not even last night? When I told you about Zayn? You didn’t even _think_ about it then?”

“…”

“That’s such _bullshit_ , Louis.”

“What? Are you _jealous_?”

“Of course not!”

“Are you sure? Because you sound a little jealous right now.”

“I’m _not_!”

“I know you, Haz. I can tell when you’re lying.

“I’m not jealous of you and your stupid fucking boyfriend or whatever the hell he is, not that _I_ would know because apparently getting a boyfriend means you don’t need a fucking _best friend_.”

“Harry that’s not true and you know it.”

“Don’t fucking cry on me, Louis.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You’re being absolutely _ridiculous_.”

“Is that how you see me? _Ridiculous?_ Immature _? Below_ you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“It’s not how it feels right now, Louis.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, you- you still don’t even fucking get it! There’s this…this burn and ache in my stomach and chest and I don’t even know why it’s fucking there! All I can- I just- I can’t even- _fuck, Louis_. You couldn’t have just _told me?_ I can’t even _look_ at you right now.”

“What’s going on here?”

And with Liam’s words, the spell was broken, shattering around the two arguing boys and falling like a net of silence until all they could hear were Louis’ harsh sobs and Harry’s heavy breathing.

Harry glared, his green eyes twisting into something ugly and beautiful all at once, but so different, so unlike their usual shade and shape.

It scared Louis, the darkness in his eyes, the lack of light and the hurt, the pain that _he_ had put there. Him, Louis, who had seen the curly-haired lad grow and change over the years, who had seen the lightness in those jade eyes, even in times of darkness.

And as Harry stormed out, pushing past Liam roughly without another word, Louis could feel his own heart break because he knew how badly he had just hurt his best friend, how betrayed Harry felt, and how the light had gone out, flickering until there was only darkness for the first time in years.

Harry stormed out of the bathroom, heading straight for the table where Niall and Zayn still sat. He pressed a short, emotionless kiss to Zayn’s lips, and nodded to both lads as he scooped up his jacket and slid it on in one fluid motion.

“I’ll see you later,” he murmured, and then, he was gone, leaving Liam and Louis in the bathroom, the latter sobbing as he recalled Harry’s hurt expression, and a confused Niall and Zayn, who had absolutely no idea what had happened to make Harry so distant.

~O~


	11. The Fourth Challenge

Zayn lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars and wondering if he could make wishes on them. Liam had put them up in his room, claiming he needed a view like the one he had from his old room, which had a window that opened up right into the dark of the night sky and showed the rare stars whenever they came out to shine.

A few months ago he might have wished for a family that was still complete, or maybe a kitten, or to become a well-known fashion designer, but today, all he wanted was for Harry to smile again and for his eyes to shine like they had.

It was strange, how completely different only one experience could make your life and how one could change so suddenly because of one moment, one second, one event.

He didn’t know what happened- _still_ \- and he wasn’t sure he even needed to know what happened; he just missed the secretive smiles and big, dopey dimples, the green eyes that lit up with glee, and most of all, simply his _Harry_ , who was mysterious and obvious all at once, but who was now being mysterious and totally unknown in a foreign way.

He just wished he could _help_.

And yeah, he kind of did seem to be helping a little because he could feel the tension leave Harry’s shoulders and his eyes sort of flickered whenever Zayn was around, but he was all quiet and reserved in the worst kind of way, the kind of way that made Zayn feel helpless and useless and just wanting to cuddle the curly-haired lad until all the pain or hurt or anger or sadness just _left_.

So, he smoked (after Harry left of course) and it helped a little because now he was beginning to feel all weightless and worriless, like his- boyfriend?- wasn’t hurting and wouldn’t tell him why, like he didn’t have to referee a challenge that night (the last challenge, too; the one that was supposed to be the most fun but was now turning into a chore), and like he didn’t care too much about Harry (because let’s face it, he was gone over the lad- flying over rainbows- floating in the clouds- in another galaxy, another world- puking happiness- spitting up love- gone over the curly-haired lad).

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, when the switch from like to _reallyreallylike_ was flipped, but somewhere along the French classes and challenges and late night study sessions-turned cuddles sessions and secret sharings and just being in each other’s presences, well, it had turned into this thing that kind of bubbled like boiling water deep inside of him.

It was scary, like shit-in-your-pants scary.

And he just wished he could wish upon one of those dumb, beautiful glow-in-the-dark stars for Harry to be happy again.

He was ridden from his thoughts by a soft knock on the door, and he thought it would be Liam coming to see if he wanted to play football or something, but instead, a mop of blonde hair was becoming visible around the partially opened door and Niall entered his room, grinning as he took in Zayn’s clearly inebriated state. Niall had known Zayn for long enough to know that the other lad liked a small smoke whenever he needed to calm down, and this was no different. After all, the majority of their best conversations had happened when Zayn was high as a kite, of course, he remembered all of them, though, because that was just Zayn and weed didn’t seem to affect him as it did others.

“You okay, Zee?” Niall asked, peering down at his friend, who just gave a dopey, shit-eating grin before tugging the blonde onto the bed. They weren’t as close as, say, Liam and Zayn or Liam and Niall were because Niall was more bubbly and happy-go-lucky and Zayn was more brooding and “I’m a badboy (but not really)” but they had times like these, when Niall just seemed to _know_ and Zayn really just _needed_.

Zayn rarely ever needed, not when they were younger, not when they were all awkward and gangly and finding out who they were, not when they were in high school, dealing with the stereotypes and harder classes, but when his dad left, something kind of switched, as if he realized that sometimes he did _need_ and that it was okay to ask for something that friends were willing to give, so when Zayn needed, Niall gave.

The blonde knew that under his hooded eyelids and stupid smile Zayn was hurting a little and Niall knew exactly _why_ , having been around both Zayn and Harry enough in the past couple weeks to understand both of them quite well. Although he hadn’t known Harry for as long as Zayn, it was very clear he was going through something, and Niall had a nagging suspicion of just what exactly was wrong, remembering one of their talks when Harry mentioned he had been “getting some” but it wasn’t anything “serious” (Niall had indicated the blatant love bites on his hip; around the time of the first challenge if his memory proved him correctly).

He knew the second Zayn’s smile turned into a small frown that the dark-haired lad needed to talk.

“Something is wrong with Hazza,” Zayn said slowly, enunciating each word carefully, as if he might break another part of the younger lad by even mentioning the topic to Niall.

His eyebrows furrowed and Niall could practically hear the wheels in his brain turning and spinning as he searched for a reason why Harry might be upset, but clearly, Zayn didn’t quite grasp the entirety of the situation and maybe Harry hadn’t mentioned anything or indicated anything the way he slightly did with Niall, or perhaps Zayn just hadn’t seen Harry in the situations Niall had, but it was quite obvious that also didn’t see how torn up Louis was, or how Liam was consoling his boyfriend all of the time.

It was almost ironic, the obvious clarity and confusion surrounding the entire situation.

“He’s just so sad all the time, a sad little puppy,” Zayn was continuing when Niall didn’t reply, and while his description was a little silly and didn’t match the mood of the conversation, it was completely spot on. “I just want him to talk to me about it.”

Zayn was pouting at Niall now, eyes turned up at him and open fully, bloodshot and glassy, but questioning and needy.

“Zee, the thing you have to know about Harry is that it takes him a while to talk about stuff. It’s like his speaking, he talks slowly and it might take him longer than most to get through a sentence, but he does and once he does you know he’s really thought it through. Just be patient, he’ll talk about it when he can.”

Zayn knew Niall was right because it was just how Harry was and he wanted to be able to be patient but it was so hard and he just hated feeling this way.

“I just- I hate feeling helpless, Nialler,” Zayn pouted.

Niall nodded in agreement, but didn’t seem to agree at the same time.

“You aren’t helpless, though, Zee. Harry needs you. He needs your comforting touch and the way you cuddle him and kiss him even though he isn’t very responsive. He needs you to hug him and act as if everything is all right or at least will be. You help him by just simply _being there_ and right now that’s more than enough for him.”

Niall didn’t feel as if it were his place to tell Zayn about his theories as to why Harry was so sad so suddenly, but he felt as if he owed Zayn some advice because his friend was clearly lost and confused, so he gave Zayn what he could.

And it seemed to help because the dark-haired lad was curling up into his side, cuddling in his own Zayn-like way, all loose touches and ghosting presses that showed he was there but was still kind of distant (the only time he seemed to fully cuddle was with Harry, at least these days).

“Thanks Nialler,” Zayn mumbled sleepily, and Niall knew he would fall asleep for a little while, so he set an alarm on his phone, giving them enough time to nap and prepare for the challenge later, and he pulled the sleepy lad next to him closer as he closed his eyes as well, the pair falling into dreamland together.

~O~

“Kiss! Kiss!”

“Start!”

“He backed away!”

“You’re on to round two!”

“They’re going to do it-“

“Will they?-“

“I think they’re going for it-“

“He backed away!”

The DKE house was full of lively buzz and chatter, an energy sizzling around the room like a wild fire, flickering from every boy and building up inside and around them. It was late, but no one was intoxicated. For one, it was a Tuesday and everyone had classes in the morning, and secondly, they weren’t allowed to be under the influence of anything, not for this challenge. No, this challenge required absolute sobriety because surely any drug or alcoholic beverage would have made the challenge far easier.

Gay chicken.

It was the straight lad’s worst nightmare of a challenge and the gay man’s easiest victory.

Of course, the entire point of the challenge was to see who didn’t care much about kissing a mate or seeing one of their friends kiss another mate, and seeing as the three main leaders of DKE- Niall, Zayn, and Liam- were all into guys, well, it was vital that there was no homophobia in the frat.

Plus, the older lads always got a kick out of watching gay chicken. It was really hilarious watching the lads purse their lips and wince as if it were the first time they were kissing anyone.

Round one was almost finished, leaving two couples to end it before they could move on to the next round: Harry and some dirty blonde kid who wasn’t really relevant (it was surprising he had made it this far), and Louis and an equally irrelevant kid named Dan.

Harry and the blonde kid, Sandy, were up first, sitting in chairs opposite of one another. Liam was the “referee” and stood on the side, lined up to the center of their chairs. Niall was to referee Louis and Dan after Harry and Sandy were finished, so he was mirroring Liam, although next to Louis and Dan.

Zayn was standing in next to an empty set of chairs, trying his hardest- and failing- not to watch the two boys who were up next.

If the room had just been loud and filled with noise, it was now near silent, so quiet that one would have heard a needle drop.

Liam’s spoke quietly, but the question that wasn’t really a question was loud.

“Ready?” he asked, and it was easy to see and judge who would win, as Harry gazed into his opponents eyes, green orbs steely and dark- not with lust or excitement, but the unnamable emotion that Zayn had been trying to figure out over the past couple of days.

His forest green eyes had been like this- empty, flickering with some emotion, but dark and cold, and Zayn didn’t know what to do, how to fix it, or even what _it_ was. He wanted to be able to take Niall’s advice, to just be patient, and he knew it was what Harry needed because the younger lad was just like that, needing time before speaking up about something, but god, it was so hard, watching his cold, calculating gaze.

It was almost as if he didn’t care about the challenge in the slightest, even though Zayn knew he did and knew he was going to make it through, but the way he just stared at everything and nothing at all, well, it was odd and so very unlike _Harry,_ whose green eyes usually spoke volumes of text and spouted emotion, more so than any action or words the younger lad might emit.

While Sandy’s eyes flickered around the room and to Liam as Liam’s mouth began to form the cue to start, Harry still looked ahead unseeingly.

“Start,” Liam announced, and as if on cue, the entire room let out a breath no one knew they were holding, and little shuffles began to sound as people grew anxious.

Sandy’s eyes were glued shut as he leaned forward, but soon enough they had snapped open to watch as the space between him and Harry slowly disappeared, the curly-haired lad moving at a faster pace, one that clearly set Sandy on edge.

Harry was ready for it, he was waiting for the moment their lips would touch, and frankly, he just kind of wanted this night and this challenge to be over, and the quicker they could kiss the better it would be.

They were merely a centimeter away when Sandy started showing signs of telltale hesitation, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly and hands twitching in his lap.

It was no surprise when he pulled away right before their lips were going to meet, and Zayn sighed in relief and Liam announced Harry the winner.

Similarly, Louis won his round, Dan leaning back first with more than three centimeters between them.

The second round was shorter than the first, and while people were a little more steadfast, there were always the ones who pulled away moments before a kiss.

Once again, Harry and Louis made it through their round easily, but this time- unlike the other challenges- there were no nods of encouragement or sneaky eye glances to see how the other was doing, at least not from Harry’s part.

Louis watched the curly-haired lad like a hawk, worried that Harry might not care anymore about the pledging because of their falling out, and he was quite happy to find Harry progressing seamlessly through the entire challenge.

Zayn was glad to hear that Harry and Louis were put together for the final round, knowing that they were good enough friends to be able to endure a little kiss and that neither of them would back away. He was also glad that he didn’t have to referee this match- neither did Liam- and that Niall was the one standing between them.

The blonde lad looked worried, for some reason, but nonetheless, he got ready to referee the last round of the final challenge.

“Begin,” Niall’s voice was clear and confident.

Zayn didn’t understand how Harry could have become even colder, but it seemed as if Niall’s instruction froze his entire body, turning him into ice, and his eyes were crying for some sort of _anything_ , but still, Zayn didn’t know what. He looked at Louis with some burning emotion, one that was familiar and almost nameable but that Zayn couldn’t quite place, at least not in this context.

The two lads were leaning in, coming together slowly, and it was as if the world was slowing time down for them.

For a moment, Zayn’s heart stopped because it looked as if Harry was hesitating, as if he would pull away, and the older lad didn’t know what was worse in the next second, if Harry had pulled away, or watching as he surged forward, catching Louis’ lips in a painful looking kiss.

It was quite obvious that he was the problem, and Zayn should have known, especially from the way Harry flinched at the mention of Louis’ name or made quick excuses whenever Louis and Liam were around, retreating from their presence, and now, as Zayn watched Harry kiss Louis, he could tell that Harry was upset with Louis.

Louis took it all, though, moving under Harry’s touch, not even wincing as Harry visibly bit down on his lip. It was almost as if he were moving into the pain, welcoming it.

No one really knew what to do, at that point, because it was clear neither of the boys lost, nor would they be losing any time soon, as Harry’s hand yanked Louis on top of him, using Louis’ arse to push their hips together. And yeah, maybe this was how the game was supposed to go, as far as it could until someone backed away, but the older boys were frozen, watching the pair as they melted together in a familiar way.

If all of the other pairs had looked uncomfortable with each other, then, Harry and Louis looked as if they were meant to be together, comfortable and practiced, but cold, emotionless.

Louis’ eyes were half-lidded, but the blue of his orbs was still visible, peeking out under fluttering eyelashes and looking at the curly-haired lad. His hips were grinding of their own accord now, and he was sort of clawing at Harry’s chest, one hand tugging at a handful of curls.

Harry responded back by holding onto Louis tightly, his lips demanding and rough, violent in such a way that looked pleasurably painful and so different from the caring way he would kiss Zayn.

Louis’ hands had worked their way up underneath Harry’s shirt and seemed to be scratching at his back, but Harry was gone, lost in another memory, his eyes glassed over and motions simply automatic. It was as if he had lost whatever force had been driving him to be so violent, and he began to kiss Louis fervently but sweetly, caressing the boy in his lap as if he were the most precious person in the world.

They seemed to have forgotten about the game because all the other pairs who had kissed simply stopped at that, and usually, in this challenge, that was acceptable. However, Louis and Harry were completely enraptured by each other as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

The spell was broken though, when Louis let out a high keening noise that came from the back of his throat and deep inside his stomach.

Suddenly, Harry remembered where he was and who he was with and who was watching, and he pushed Louis up and off of his lap, dropping the other lad on the floor with a loud thump.

He was staring in shock at Louis and then he spun around frantically, locking gaze with Zayn, his green orbs suddenly filled with the emotion that had been repressed, and then, he backed up slowly, not looking away, before turning and rushing out of the house, pushing past people, the door slamming loudly behind him.

It was silent until Louis’ sobs sounded and Liam announced the challenge over, leaving everyone in complete confusion and chaos as he pulled his sobbing boyfriend from the room.

~O~

He didn’t know where he was going or even why he was still upset because really he was just making a big fucking deal out of something that really shouldn’t have been this much of a problem, but he had been seeing Louis kiss Liam for the past few days, the image engraved in his mind, and for some reason, it just really bothered him.

He wasn’t jealous, no, he had Zayn and he was perfectly happy and content with the older lad, but it was this weird like burning sensation and it just kind of hurt and sat in his stomach and heart. He missed Louis and their previously easy friendship and how Louis shared everything with him.

So yeah, maybe he did know why he was so upset.

He just hated that Louis didn’t tell him about Liam. It was such a little yet huge fact and Harry couldn’t understand why Louis would keep it from him, nor did he know what he could have done to make Louis _not_ want to tell him.

Was he bad at keeping secrets?

Was he bad at listening?

Was he a bad friend?

It just didn’t make any sense because Louis was always so open and finding his best friend closed off was one of the biggest betrayals he had ever experienced.

He had always expected someone else to hurt him- a stranger- and he hadn’t expected this, the betrayal of someone closest to him.

It hurt a hell of a lot more than if it were a stranger because it was _Louis_ and Louis betraying him was the worst thing that could possibly happen.

He imagined that Louis betraying him would hurt even more than Zayn cheating on him, and while he knew Zayn would never and that it would hurt a lot if he did, Louis doing this- this act of apparent mistrust- was one of the most painful experiences he had ever had.

And he had been doing well, hiding his emotions and trying to sort through them, but feeling Louis so close and in such a familiar position broke the dam he had put in place, allowing his emotions to run wild.

He didn’t know how many minutes or hours had passed since he left the house, but he knew his phone had been buzzing incessantly in his pocket- probably Zayn and Niall, maybe even Louis- and he just let his feet carry him along as he had been for the past hours or minutes or seconds.

It wasn’t until he reached the familiar frat house that he realized where he was headed, and he quietly slipped through the front door, traversing through the hallways until he reached the one place he really wanted to be: Zayn’s room.

He could hear the older boy shifting restlessly in his bed, obviously not sleeping and more like sleeplessly tossing under the covers.

Harry knew he wasn’t being quiet as he entered the room and shut the door behind him, and he could see the shape of Zayn’s body as he sat up. It was still dark though, as Harry toed off his shoes and clothes quickly before moving to the bed and sliding in next to the worried lad.

“Hazza?” Zayn asked, and Harry felt guilty, making Zayn worry, but he just pressed forward, pushing their bodies together, heat mingling with the coolness of his body.

It was a few more moments before Zayn spoke again, his arms wrapping around Harry’s skinny frame.

“Are you okay?”

Harry took a minute, inhaling Zayn’s familiar and comforting scent, enjoying the way the older boy held him close, and feeling lighter in Zayn’s presence.

“Not fully, but with you- I’m better.”

~O~


	12. Party Time?

The night before- Tuesday- had the DKE house filled with pledgers and energy, but this night was that and much more- the main rooms of the house packed with people and alcohol and weed, music booming and people shouting. Couples were sprawled out everywhere, some kissing and making out, others simply talking or dancing. People were mingling, drinking, dancing, and all in all, seeming to be having a pretty damn good time.

Any drama from the night before was long gone and long forgotten as people drank away their problems.

It was Wednesday, and yeah, who parties on a Wednesday? But this was a special Wednesday because it was the annual Hump Day Party, which meant not only had one gotten through half of the week (hence the name of the party), but also they had gotten through half of the quarter, and did they need any other reason to party? Yes, as the name implies, it was Hump Day (Wednesday), and yes, people did use the name as an excuse to get it on (why wouldn’t you want to hump on hump day at the Hump Day party?).

So, basically, pledgers, DKE boys, sorority girls, other frat boys, and a bunch of random ass people found themselves inside the DKE frat house on a Wednesday night, and were partying the night away. Of course, it was mainly DKE boys and pledgers because it an invite only party (they were assholes like that but why pledge DKE if you didn’t know how prestigious it was), and all the other people who were there felt really fucking special.

Zayn, of course, didn’t get what the big deal was, and really hoped no one had the nerve to go into his room. He was planning on sleeping in there himself and after Harry spent the previous night with him, he hoped it would happen again.

There was something special about waking up to Harry, being able to watch as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and mumbled incoherently before stretching sleepily like a cat and curling right back into Zayn’s side.

It was cute, like really fucking adorable cute, and he just wanted it to happen every single day for as long as he could think into the future.

Of course, he had absolutely no idea where Harry was at the moment, which bothered him a little but not too much because Harry was a big boy and could somewhat take care of himself, and he figured he’d find him eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Currently, he was with Andy and Niall, sort of drinking a beer but enjoying just watching Niall throw back pint after pint more than anything.

“Where’s Ed, Nialler?” Zayn asked, and Andy turned, interested to hear Niall’s answer. The blonde lad didn’t talk about his boyfriend very much, and his friends sort of sucked up any information they could get, which wasn’t very much, but considering that Niall was well on his way past tipsy and talked a lot when he was drunk, they figured he might be a little more willing to share.

Niall didn’t even have to answer, though, because Ed appeared out of nowhere, pressing a kiss to the blonde’s cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist. The redhead wasn’t usually very affectionate, but there was something in the way he looked at Niall that just showed how much he cared about the other boy.

Niall’s attention immediately went to Ed, and Andy was flirting with some pretty bird, so Zayn decided it was time to find Harry. He slipped away from his friends, looking around the room and trying to find the familiar mop of curly, brown hair. It was nearly impossible to spot anyone in particular from where he was standing near the kitchen, so he started walking around.

He pushed through a crowd of people grinding raucously on one another, frowning a little because didn’t anyone have any sense of self-respect? But, then again, it was a party so he supposed he shouldn’t expect too much more.

Louis and Liam playing beer pong, with Louis drinking the majority of the beer (Liam didn’t drink that much) and hanging off of Liam as he began to feel the effects of the alcohol. They were winning, though, if Louis’ loud whoops of cheer were any indication. Liam was an athlete after all, and had a wicked arm as well as aim, so Zayn wasn’t too surprised.

He walked around for a good ten minutes with no luck and it wouldn’t have shocked him to find Harry in his own dorm away from the party, but for some reason, he just got this feeling that the younger lad was here and just hiding somewhere. Call it a sixth sense, or something, but Harry had said he would come and had mentioned something about enjoying cuddling the night before, and there was this look in the younger lad’s green eyes that hinted he wanted to do it again.

Zayn checked his room and some of the other rooms to no avail, only walking in on some couples viciously going at it (not in his room thank god), and was beginning to get a little disappointed that he couldn’t find Harry, until he walked into the main living room, and spotted a mop of curly hair sort of hidden away in the corner of the room.

Of course, Zayn thought, upon coming close, of course Harry would be hiding away from most of the people.

He was so relieved when the younger boy arrived in his room last night, and although Harry didn’t specify anything, Zayn was glad just to hold him in his arms. There was something heart-breaking in the way that Harry had clung to him, his skin cold and body shivering, but he knew that the younger lad was getting better, and it helped to know that simply holding him was one of the causes for that.

As he made his way closer to Harry, he saw that the curly-haired boy was on his phone, and when he reached his side, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sims, Hazza? Really?”

Harry looked up from his device, giving Zayn one of those small, reserved smiles, the ones he only gave to Zayn, and he locked his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. He patted the floor next to him, and Zayn gladly slid down, leaning against Harry’s side and enjoying the feeling of being held. He had never had this type of intimacy before, the kind where you just touched and everything felt better, but he had never felt as safe and warm and comfortable as he did in Harry’s arms.

Zayn noticed the beer by Harry’s side when the younger lad brought the bottle up to his lips, taking a small swig of it and toying with the glass in his hand. He knew Harry wasn’t really one to drink or party too much, something he largely appreciated about the younger lad, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive seeing Harry drink. Of course, he didn’t want Harry to be too intoxicated because he rather liked the younger lad’s sense of constant clarity, especially at parties.

Harry hadn’t responded to Zayn’s first question, instead just letting his head fall on Zayn’s curls, so Zayn tried again.

“Not in the mood for a party?”

Harry kind of harrumphed incoherently, “No, not really.”

“Yeah me either,” Zayn agreed, trying not to laugh as Harry’s curls tickled against the bottom of his chin. They were able to see the entire room from their vantage point and sat there for a little longer, watching people have fun while simultaneously make complete fools of themselves.

“You wanna go somewhere quieter?” Zayn asked, slipping his finger into Harry’s, where they fit perfectly.

Harry nodded, standing up, and they made their way through the chaos, content with each other and undisturbed by the people.

Zayn was glad to see a little spark of lightness coming back into Harry’s green eyes.

~O~

“Do you think he hates me?”

“No, of course he doesn’t, he’s your best friend. Lou, I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, he’s probably just hurt,” Liam pulled Louis into his side, leaning against the kitchen counter as he did so. They had just finished up a game of beer pong, and Louis was quite drunk (although Liam was partially to blame for that seeing how he couldn’t drink too much). Usually, Louis was a touchy-feely, happy drunk, but tonight, it seemed as if all the worries he had been hiding were emerging, and Liam could practically feel Louis shuddering in his arms.

“He hates me,” Louis spoke adamantly, voice muffled against Liam’s shirt, making it even more difficult to hear over the shouts and music. It was shaping up to be one of the better Hump Day parties and Liam was glad to see it was turning out successful. He just needed to figure out a way to get Louis out of this little slump, so that they could enjoy the night as well. Louis, however, was still moaning into his shirt, his hands balled up in the cotton as his lips brushed against Liam’s chest.

“Babe, c’mon, think about who you’re talking about,” Liam reasoned, knowing that Harry was a decently level-headed bloke and wasn’t likely to simply throw away years of friendship. Louis had explained the extent of their relationship- extra benefits included- the night before, once he had calmed down after Harry stormed out of the challenge. While Liam was a little upset about Harry and Louis’ past relationship, or rather, the benefits it had, he couldn’t say he was too shocked after seeing the way they kissed during the challenge, and he couldn’t hold it against Louis either, seeing how Louis had been very clear it was Liam who held his heart, and how Harry seemed to be just as smitten with Zayn.

“Yeah, Harry. He holds grudges,” Louis whined, his drunken state showing through as he began to sort of baby claw at Liam’s chest, seeming to need something. If Liam hadn’t been so head-over-heels for the younger lad, he probably would have found it annoying, but he liked Louis- _a lot_ \- and so instead, he found it kind of cute.

“You’re his best friend.”

“This one time, in third grade, Gemma, his sister, broke his toy car, and he ignored her for a whole month. His own _sister_.”

“Louis, he isn’t in third grade anymore,” Liam tried again, knowing that Louis was being unreasonable, and trying to stifle a laugh because he could kind of picture a little Harry pouting and ignoring a female version of himself. It was a funny mental image, but he figured now wasn’t exactly the best time to start laughing, especially because Louis would most likely think he was laughing at him, which would just open up a whole new round of whining and explaining.

“ _Exactly_. That means he’ll probably hold a grudge for much, much longer than a month!” Louis exclaimed, pushing off Liam’s chests to pace back and forth in front of him. He was pulling at his hair, creating a complete mess of the perfectly sculpted locks (he had spent hours before the partying trying to make it look the way it did).

“Have you tried apologizing?” Liam figured he may as well let Louis sort of work out the stress, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put ideas into the younger lad’s subconscious, a tactic he used with Niall often. It worked, usually, because while the said upset person was ranting and going a little berserk, he just suggested things calmly, and well, often enough it stopped them in their tracks or worked its way into their thoughts.

And it seemed to work because Louis paused, “Well…”

“Or explaining why you didn’t tell him?” Liam continued, and he definitely knew it was working when Louis collapsed back into his arms, snuggling his nose into Liam’s chest and shoulder.

“Not exactly, but he won’t even look at me! How am I supposed to apologize when he practically runs out of the room every single time I show up?”

Liam sighed, of course he would choose a melodramatic boyfriend- not that he was complaining, he rather liked this about Louis- but in this moment, he just kind of wished Louis would like snog him or something and stop talking or worrying about Harry. It had been the only thing the younger lad had thought about in the past few days, and he wanted to see his boyfriend smile again. If there were a way to make things right between the best friends he would have already, and judging from what he saw of Zayn, his own best friend wanted the same thing.

“Lou, you need to just try, yeah? I’m sure he’ll forgive you if you explain and apologize. Try tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Louis seemed a slight bit skeptical, but he wasn’t unwilling.

“Babe, he’ll forgive you. He probably just needed some time to think it through.”

“Why are you always right?” Louis frowned playfully, pushing his hands into the lower part of Liam’s stomach and reveling in the ridges that he could feel. One of the perks of dating a jock was definitely the defined six-pack, and well, if he took advantage of feeling it as often as he could, who was he to blame?

Liam shrugged, “Can’t help it.”

“You’re a twat,” Louis replied, kissing Liam softly on the lips.

“Ahh, but you like me anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

~O~

“I guess you’ve probably been wondering why I’ve been so upset lately,” Harry muttered, snuggling closer into Zayn’s side. He didn’t really feel like hashing out his emotions, or even telling Zayn about his relationship with Louis, but he knew he owed it to Zayn and that if they were going to have a healthy relationship, then they would have to talk about it eventually.

He was scared, though, because what if Zayn got mad at him?

They were currently in Zayn’s room, which was quiet and relaxing, much like Zayn’s personality. It felt nice, curling around each other on his bed and simply laying with one another. Harry didn’t necessarily want to ruin the comfortable vibe, but he knew he needed to talk to Zayn about his, and there really was no better time than now.

Zayn kept quiet, though, pulling Harry tighter to his side in a silent reassurance that it was okay and to take his time.

“It’s Louis,” Harry finally spoke, and he curled into Zayn’s side, hiding his face like a puppy who did something wrong. He just couldn’t stand the thought of Zayn being mad at him or leaving him, it was enough that his relationship with Louis was broken, but the thought of Zayn leaving too, well, it was almost too much for him to handle thinking about.

Zayn put a hand to his head, running a hand through his curls and Harry sunk into his embrace, glad that the older boy didn’t seem to be angry or upset, at least not that he could tell.

“I know,” Zayn replied, and Harry was shocked, how did Zayn know?

“You know?” Harry asked, and while he didn’t want to stop the hand running through his curls, he couldn’t help but lean back to look up at the dark-haired boy. He thought he had been pretty good at hiding his relationship with Louis, after all, that was what Louis had wanted, but apparently he hadn’t hidden it enough. And, if he really thought about it, he hadn’t tried all too hard, especially with the way they would congratulate each other after challenges and such.

“I figured as much after last night.”

And of course, Zayn wasn’t stupid; Harry should have known that the older lad would guess after his big melt down during the challenge.

The big question was if Zayn would be more upset once he knew what Louis and Harry had been before.

“We- erm, we’re best friends- were bests friends, I guess. I dunno, now,” Harry mumbled and he really had no idea what him and Louis were or what they could possibly be. Hell, he didn’t even really know why he was still upset. It was all so confusing and mixed up and he didn’t really know what was going on anymore. It was as if he had gotten to the point where he didn’t know left from right or up from down. He just knew he had been upset and was still kind of upset, but the reasons were all jumbled and he didn’t know why anymore.

He just wanted to go back to before when it was Louis and Harry, but he couldn’t, not without giving up Zayn, and he really didn’t want to give up Zayn.

It was all just so confusing.

Zayn didn’t speak, though, giving Harry time to sort out his thoughts and keep explaining.

And Harry did, of course, even though it took a while longer than most, but he began speaking once more, slowly, ever so slowly.

“I guess, well, I should explain part of our relationship,” Harry took a deep breath, and Zayn knew that what was going to come next wasn’t going to be something he would want to hear, but he was glad at the same time because Harry was going to share something with him, and no matter if it was good or bad, it was still something, and anything from Harry was a positive, or at least that was how Zayn saw it. After how long it took for Harry to even feel this comfortable with him, he would take what he could, and he knew, deep down, that whatever Harry was going to tell him about him and Louis and their relationship, well, it was in the past.

At least he hoped.

“Keep in mind, that this all stopped once I started getting to know you, like completely stopped, and it wasn’t anything big, it was just kind of how we were and how it had always been.”

As Harry began to explain, Zayn felt a sense of relief because already Harry was confirming his thoughts.

It was in the past.

“Basically,” Harry continued, “Louis and I are-were- best friends. I’ve known him as long as I can remember, and somewhere along the lines, the boundaries kind of blurred, at least on the physical level. We were each other’s first kisses and first times, and well, we kind of kept that, like whenever we were both single we’d just hook up. Of course, we were just best friends, who hooked up.”

Harry paused when Zayn’s arm tightened around him, and he didn’t have to look up at the older lad’s face to know his lips were in a tight line, eyes closed as he processed this information. It wasn’t anything unexpected because Zayn had kind of deduced as much already because of the last challenge and with what Harry had commenced the conversation, but it didn’t stop the feeling of jealously from running rampant through his brain and veins.

He knew Harry couldn’t take back his past and that they didn’t even know each other while this was occurring, but he couldn’t help himself from wishing that Harry had always been his and only his.

“Go on,” Zayn said tersely, and he felt the way Harry stiffened at his short tone, but he couldn’t help it, he just- he wanted Harry to himself and no one else. He raised his hand to Harry’s hair again, both to calm himself and the younger lad, and it worked, allowing him to sink back into Harry’s body, which began to relax into his own hold.

Harry sighed, and for a moment Zayn thought he was either finished speaking or about to fall asleep, but then, Harry spoke up again.

“I didn’t know about Liam and Louis,” Harry mumbled out bitterly, and Zayn could practically hear the hurt and resentment in his voice.

It wasn’t what he was expecting, though, if Zayn was being truthful. He had somewhat reasoned the first part of the explanation, but this, well, he could safely say he was surprised. He hadn’t known either, but he could tell from the way Liam was acting, especially around Louis, and from their earlier teasing, when the pledging first began, that Louis was special to his friend. Niall had seen it too, and they both had just chosen not to comment on it.

“Is that what you’re upset about?” Zayn asked, and he knew he hit a particular soft spot when Harry began to tremble a little in his arms, clinging tighter around his torso. He was a little shocked because while he knew Harry was upset, he hadn’t been prepared for this, for the younger boy to be on the verge of a break down.

Harry had been quiet, yes, and even more reserved than usual, but he hadn’t come close to breaking down like this. The night before he had just seemed angry- that is when he stormed out after the challenge- but he hadn’t shown this kind of emotion, the heartbroken and hurt kind of emotion, the deep sadness that swelled in your core and burned until you were left with some type of embers of past feelings.

“He used to tell me everything,” Harry managed to spit out, and then, it broke, the dam he had been using to hold everything it crumbled, and he was a sobbing mess in Zayn’s arms, clinging to the older boy as if he were a lifeline and his only support; the only thing he had left.

And Zayn understood, he got it, so he pulled Harry close, pressing soft kisses to his forehead and curls and behind his ears, whispering soft, comforting words that weren’t really heard over the whimpers of the younger lad, and they just lay there, holding one another- one strong and one broken- and it was as if everything was wrong, yet right, all at once.

~O~

“C’mon, sing! Please, LiLi?”

Niall and Ed were strumming their guitars, somehow playing the same chords at the same time, and Niall was begging Liam to sing along because as much as he tried to hide it, Liam had a wonderful voice. How Niall knew this? Well, let’s just say that Liam was never too quiet in the shower.

Liam was quite adamantly not singing, though, and instead, hid his face into Louis’ shoulder. He just didn’t really like singing in front of people all that much, and with Louis there, well, he definitely wasn’t about to start belting it out.

Louis seemed to get excited with the idea that Niall presented and was now looking at Liam expectantly, and the moment he pulled out his puppy pout, Liam knew he was a goner.

“Please Liam?” Louis begged, slipping their fingers together and begging with his eyes.

Liam wasn’t too keen on swearing, but he was surely calling Louis all sorts of names- like booger, buttface, tosser, etc.- in his mind, not that it was helping him out in the situation at all.

Niall only fed the fire, switching the chords seamlessly into a song he knew Liam wouldn’t be able to resist because it was one of his favorite tunes at the moment and Niall had heard him humming it more often than not in the past few weeks. Ed caught on quickly, adding little riffs to the top of the chords, giving Liam the perfect background music to sing over.

Niall stumbled over the chords a little when Louis began to sing before Liam even really recognized the song.

“I’m gonna pick up the pieces, and build a Lego House,” Louis sang, his voice soft, but melodic, fitting the mood of the tune perfectly, and shocking Niall with the tone of his voice. It was rich, higher than most men’s voices, but beautiful, settling in with the chords and melding with the guitar melody.

Liam seemed to soften as Louis continued to sing to him, and before long, he was singing as well, eyes never leaving his boyfriends.

“I’ll do it all for you in time, and out of all these things I’ve done, I think I love you better now.”

Their voices fit together perfectly, and Niall smiled, letting his own blue eyes flit over to Ed, who seemed just as content with the music.

And this was it, this was what Niall lived for- the music and the feelings it brought and created. He just loved this, being with his friends and his boyfriend and playing music and creating something so beautiful and so lovely.

This was _it_.

~O~

Neither one of them knew how long it had been since Harry had stopped crying, but they were still wrapped up in each other, lost to the party that was going on around them.

It was just Harry and Zayn and Zayn and Harry.

“What are we?” Harry asked, pressing soft kisses against Zayn’s neck and letting his eyelashes flutter against the older lad’s strong jawbone. He wasn’t sure when he had gone from hurt to _this_ \- feeling all snuggly and warm inside- but he just needed something and he was sure Zayn could give it to him.

He asked the question, knowing what he wanted the answer to be, but not sure if Zayn wanted the same thing, although, they basically were the answer already, and the only confirmation needed were words.

“Whatever you want to be, Hazza,” Zayn replied, sort of sleepily, but still wide-awake and very aware of what they were talking about.

Neither needed to speak the answer though, because they already knew- they were Zayn’s Harry and Harry’s Zayn- they were boyfriends- they were each other- they were lovers- they were becoming best friends- they had a future- and they had each other.

It was like both of them just knew.

It felt right, everything about it, about this, about _them_.

“Zayn,” Harry whimpered, and the older boy knew without hearing what Harry was asking, what Harry _needed_ , what _he_ needed.

They were connected emotionally, but it wasn’t quite enough and they were ready to take the next step, they wanted to take it because there was this deep ache between the two of them that just begged to be connected in the most special way.

They were connected emotionally, but they wanted to be connected physically.

And no words were needed as their eyes locked, jade and chocolate. They had spoken enough for the night, and now, all they wanted was to speak with their actions, so as Zayn pressed Harry back onto the bed, he used his lips to speak and his hands to listen, feeling as the younger boy moved underneath him.

They fumbled together, their hands shaking and bodies trembling, but they were together finally, in every sense of the word, they were one.

And, as they lost themselves in each other, their eyes still locked as they found pleasure with one another in an act meant for just the two of them, they were unaware of another presence, one that gasped softly at the sight of the two boys making love on the bed before silently slipping from the room, heart racing and mind planning triumphantly.

~O~


	13. The Morning After

He almost wished he could just lie there, warm and content, all morning. It was cuddly and comfortable and everything the morning after should be, giving him those warm fuzzy feelings in his stomach and heart. He could still feel the ghost of Zayn’s touch all over his body and it was kind of glorious in a way that just made him feel complete and whole- something he hadn’t really ever felt with anyone, not even Louis.

Harry just felt…happy.

He was currently propped up on his side, elbow bent and holding his body weight, with Zayn curled against him. The older boy looked beautiful like this- his face was calm and peaceful, making him look relaxed and stress-free. He was breathing evenly and Harry could feel it as the warm spurts of air hit his bare chest. It made Harry feel wanted and needed, even if Zayn was asleep, because the older boy was cuddled into _him_ and had stayed there all night.

So, as much as he wanted to just kind of stay in that one position for the rest of his life, he decided he also kind of wanted to show Zayn how much he appreciated the older lad and everything he had done for Harry, and what better way than making breakfast in bed right?

Harry slipped out from under the covers carefully, making sure not to jostle his boyfriend, and yes, his _boyfriend_ \- they had silently had that discussion the night before and Zayn whispered, “Good night, boyfriend,” to Harry before they fell asleep. Zayn kind of mumbled for a moment, and Harry felt like a fool and a creep watching the older lad as he slept on, but he looked gorgeous like this, so Harry couldn’t help himself. He winced as the cold air began to seep around his bare body and quickly searched for his clothing, which were kind of hidden all over the room, so he settled on borrowing a pair of Zayn’s boxers and one of the older lad’s hoodies, putting on his own jeans.

He managed to open the door quietly, and with one little glance back to make sure Zayn was still sleeping, he made his way from the room and down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was still pretty empty, most of its inhabitants still sleeping off the alcohol from the night previous, so Harry found he had the kitchen to himself. It was relaxing, finding the proper pans and ingredients.

He found that they had the right foods to make eggs, pancakes, and bacon, an uncommon occurrence in the house of all blokes, but Harry took the rare opportunity and began to cook.

He relaxed into the method of whisking pancake mix and alternated between that and making eggs, scrambling them and throwing the eggs onto a frying pan, where they sizzled and began to turn from liquid to proper scrambled eggs. Once that was finished, he put them on a plate and set some American cheese squares to melt, covering the finished eggs with a pan top.

The pancake mix was ready, so he tackled that next, and somewhere in between putting the batter on the pan and beginning to pull out the bacon he started humming, but really, who could blame him? He was just in a really damn good mood was all and he loved to cook and he really liked his boyfriend and they had just had really amazing sex and well, what could bring him down from that?

He continued on, humming not-so-quietly, and cooking food, the batch of pancakes finished and staying warm in the oven as he cooked the bacon, which sizzled and crackled on the stove top. All of it smelled delicious, and he was kind of surprised that Niall hadn’t found his way into the kitchen yet, but also glad to have the time alone to think about the night before.

Being with Zayn like that had been wonderful; Zayn was everything Harry needed him to be, all caring and soft touches, but also strong and dominant and satisfying. They had meant to take things slow, but it seemed they were moving at the perfect pace because Harry had never felt so content with a relationship before.

Everything with Zayn just felt so right.

He was so caught up in his cooking and thoughts about his boyfriend that he didn’t hear the soft patter of footsteps as someone made their way down the hallway and into the kitchen, following the scent of the food.

It wasn’t until he heard the voice speaking his name that he even realized he wasn’t alone, and when he did, he immediately stopped humming, standing shell-shocked as he slid cooked bacon from the pan onto a plate.

“G’morning, Haz.”

And it really should have surprised him more to find Louis standing there sleepily, in only a pair of plaid pajama pants, but he found the sight very familiar- and almost comforting, had his heart not jolted a little with pain- and he opted to turn back to the now cooked meal, arranging it as best he could. He put a decent amount of eggs, pancakes, and bacon on a plate for Zayn, figuring he would leave it in the older lad’s room for when he awoke.

He was fully aware of Louis still standing there, he could even hear the way he shifted on his feet uncomfortably, but Harry wasn’t going to speak up first; no, that was up to Louis, who surely must have figured out just why Harry was so angry and hurt by now.

“Can we talk?” Louis asked, and the curly-haired boy still faced away from him, his shoulders hunched over as he toyed with the food, arranging and rearranging it multiple times.

This was it, Louis had extended the olive branch and Harry knew he had to take it in order for this to work, but he could still feel that pain heavy on his heart and as much as he missed his best friend, it was so hard to forgive, but wasn’t that how it always was? People would say forgive and forget, but it was one of those sayings that was much easier said than done.

But of course, Harry couldn’t let go of his friendship with Louis, no matter how broken it felt in this moment, so he answered, “Yeah.”

Louis sighed with relief, and Harry saw him visibly relax when he finally turned around to face the other lad. He could see the dark circles under Louis’ eyes and a little part of him rejoiced in the fact that he had felt just as much pain as Harry had. It didn’t last long, though, because he immediately berated himself for thinking such a thing.

“I’m just going to bring this to Zayn,” Harry muttered, picking up the full plate of food and moving past Louis. He made his way back to Zayn’s bedroom, and was glad to find the older lad still sleeping.

He looked just as peaceful as when Harry had left him, so he let the older lad be, simply setting the food on Zayn’s desk and pressing a small kiss to his forehead.

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes and attempting to relax himself for the upcoming discussion. He needed to do this, he wasn’t sure if he was ready, but he needed to.

It was now or never.

~O~

After making his way from Zayn’s room and back to the kitchen, Harry found Louis exactly where he had left him. He grabbed two plates and the rest of the eggs and bacon, indicating to Louis that he should help grab pancakes and some forks, before nodding toward the front door.

“We can eat outside?” Harry asked, and without waiting for an answer, he moved out of the house, making sure not to drop any of the plates in his hands. The late morning air had a fresh, crisp bite to it, but it wasn’t too cold, and as Harry settled on the thankfully dry grass, he immediately warmed up under the fiery rays of the sun.

Louis had followed wordlessly, and they dished out the left over food without speaking. It was silent, all but the clatter of their forks against the plates and their chewing and the occasional shout from a student or chirp from a bird, well, so maybe it wasn’t _silent_ , but they weren’t speaking yet, and it almost felt like before, _almost_.

Harry definitely wasn’t going to speak up first, after all, Louis had asked him to talk and while he had over-reacted, he hadn’t done anything really. So, yeah, he wasn’t talking first.

He didn’t have to, though, because Louis finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry, Haz,” Louis said, folding and unfolding his fingers before looking up to catch Harry’s gaze sincerely. His blue eyes were filled with everything Harry had wanted to see since watching Louis kiss Liam, and honestly, in that moment, he forgave Louis completely.

He was so tired of hurting and being angry with Louis and hearing how much Louis meant it and seeing how much he himself was hurting, well, he just couldn’t stay mad at his best friend.

But he had to know, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry’s voice came out small and timid and he hadn’t meant to sound so young, but Louis had always made him feel younger, not intentionally or in a bad way, it was just that his best friend always seemed to know stuff- how to do things or what to do or what to think or how to act- and it had always made Harry feel as if he were younger because he didn’t really know any of that stuff, and in this case it was the same.

He still didn’t quite understand why Louis would possibly keep something so important from him and he really wanted to understand. It was something that had been on his mind a lot lately, obviously, and he had tried to make sense of it, reasoning in different ways, but he never came to a good conclusion. He knew he wasn’t bad at keeping secrets (who did he have to tell them to?) and he knew his relationship with Louis wasn’t falling apart- they had been hanging out still and everything had seemed completely normal.

So, needless to say, he was very confused and just wanted an answer.

And Louis seemed ready to give him one.

Well, sort of.

“Look, Haz, it wasn’t like I just sat there and thought to myself, oh, I’m not going to tell Harry about Liam. It just- I guess- it’s the first time I’ve ever felt this way about a guy, and I wanted to know it was real, like really _real,_ before telling the world, and consequently you, which is dumb because I tell you everything and it’s not like you would have judged me or anything, but I didn’t. And I don’t really have a reason for not telling you other than I just didn’t know how to say it or what you would say or I dunno.”

Louis rambled his way through the explanation and by the time he had finished his was red in the face and a little breathless, looking at Harry with wide blue eyes. He looked just about as confused as Harry felt and as he watched his best friend it was as if everything had changed and nothing had changed at all in their first semester of college.

Louis was still the same, his hair blowing in the wind perfectly and the angles of his face beautiful. He looked almost the same physically, but Harry could see the influences of their new surroundings working their way around his best friend.

They were changing, growing up and becoming different people, new people, but he really hoped more than anything that they could change together.

He knew he had changed a lot, his viewpoint on people and friends and school and just life in general, but he also knew that Louis had always been a constant and he couldn’t imagine life without Louis present, even with Zayn becoming something big and important, Louis would always be special.

It was as if his heart was beginning to form little section: a section for Louis, a section for Zayn, a section for Niall, a section for Liam (even though he hadn’t grown as close to Liam), and a bunch of other little sections for things and places and knowledge and beliefs. He could stand losing the beliefs and places and things, but not the people, no the people were there and if he lost the people who had become so special and so vital to him, well, it would break off that section of his heart and he didn’t know if he would be able to get it back.

“I forgive you, LouBear.”

And with that one sentence, those four words, he felt relief, like a heavy downpour of relief, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of the words and his mind immediately felt clearer and it was as if none of it had happened, well, it had happened but it wasn’t important anymore.

It just didn’t matter.

Louis looked shocked, as if he had expected Harry to throw another hissy fit or tantrum, and once he finally understood what the curly-haired boy had said, he threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and causing both of them to tumble backwards into the grass, where they began to roll around playfully. It was so natural, holding Louis (in a friendly way of course) and just being with his best friend and Harry finally realized why he had hurt so much the past few days because it wasn’t just that Louis had betrayed him, but also, that he wasn’t _there_ to hold him and make him feel as if it were all right, as if everything was always going to be all right no matter what.

Eventually, Louis ended up with his face tucked away into the crevice of Harry’s shoulder, and they sat like that for a while, both content with having their best friend back.

“So, tell me about Liam,” Harry demanded after a while, and he saw how Louis’ blue orbs lit up and his best friend immediately jumped into his stories and tales about his boyfriend.

And even through his rambling, Louis didn’t miss how the light was back in Harry’s eyes.

~O~

He felt different, when he awoke, well, not different, per say, but he felt as if something was missing. He didn’t want to open his eyes because that meant facing another day and sometimes the prospect of waking up to another day was big and scary and daunting, making him just want to snuggle back under his covers and stay away from the real world for a while. He often did so, during the summer and on weekends, but there was a nagging feeling, jiggling at his thoughts in the back of his mind, telling him he needed to wake up for something.

But what?

And then, he remembered. He remembered in flashes of dark curls and big dimples and green eyes. Ah. Yes. _Harry_.

How could he have forgotten?

So, he opened his eyes right away because the prospect of sharing another day with his boyfriend was something he would gladly wake up for and get up for at any point, but oh, well, that’s what was missing.

Harry was missing.

Zayn could feel the hint of warmth where another body had lain next to him and he could smell the musky scent of Harry’s cologne, but other than that it was as if he hadn’t been there at all and was simply a figment of his imagination.

But no, that couldn’t be true because Harry wouldn’t have left him alone, especially after, well, after the night before.

Zayn knew they had hit the point of no return and he didn’t want to return from where they had gone the previous night because it was glorious and he wanted to do it all over again…and again…and again.

But he still didn’t know where Harry was, and that was slightly worrying, so he closed his eyes again because if Harry wasn’t there, well, getting up became daunting again.

He wasn’t used to this at all, no he was always the one who disappeared the morning after, he was the one who failed to stay in the morning, and he was the one who left with only a scent and a hint of warmth on the sheets.

Did this mean that Harry didn’t feel the same way?

If the night before was any indicator, Zayn didn’t believe that, how could he when he could practically taste the _Iloveyou_ on Harry’s lips and in his kisses?

No, he didn’t think Harry was leaving him like a one night-stand.

It was during this precise moment that he smelled it, and cracking his eyes open a little he also saw it, and _of course_ , he thought when he saw the plate of still warm food on his desk.

Zayn immediately felt foolish for questioning Harry’s intent and feelings about him because the younger lad had made him breakfast- and a fucking delicious looking one at that- and he slipped from the bed, picking up the plate piled with food after pulling on some ratty sweatpants.

He brought the food out into the kitchen, finding Liam and Niall sitting down, eating cereal, which was surprising because he would have thought if Harry made him food he would have made food for everyone else, too, but apparently not because Niall eyed Zayn’s plate immediately and kind of went to reach for it.

Zayn did the little my-food-arm-wrap-around-the-plate stance, protecting the breakfast with his arms, and sat down as far away from Niall as possible, which just happened to be on Liam’s side.

“Have you seen Hazza?” Zayn asked around a mouthful of eggs- damn could his boyfriend could- and Niall and Liam stopped their conversation about football to look at Zayn before both shaking their heads and going back to their previous conversation.

Odd.

He finished his food and sort of half-walked, half-stumbled back to his room, which was still empty, and he figured that he may as well shower and dress for the day and that Harry would eventually show up somewhere in between his daily getting ready routine.

So he did just that.

He showered.

He shat.

He shaved.

He gelled his quiff.

He picked out an outfit.

And finally, after all of that, he sat down on his bed, an hour and a half later, sighing a little to himself because there was still no sign of the curly-haired lad.

He didn’t want to worry and he didn’t want to be _that guy_ , ya know, the one who freaked out whenever their significant other went missing or say where they were, but shit, they had just made love the night previous- which was a huge step in their relationship- and it had actually meant something to Zayn- something he wasn’t used to- and he had no idea where Harry was or how the younger lad even felt about what they had done.

So yeah, he was sort of being that guy and he was definitely worried, especially with how Harry had been acting because of Louis.

Zayn walked back into the main part of the house and found Niall sitting on the couch, practicing his guitar.

“I think he’s outside,” Niall said when he saw Zayn standing there, and Zayn didn’t even have to ask who he was talking about to know it was Harry.

He made his way to the kitchen, which had the largest window, and he looked out the shiny glass to see that Harry was indeed outside, looking beautiful under the sunlight (and wearing his sweatshirt, fuck yes for marking territory), but Zayn also noticed that Harry was with Louis.

And Harry was laughing.

And Harry was smiling.

And Harry looked happier than he had all week.

Zayn wanted to say it didn’t touch him in a certain way, but knowing that Louis was able to make Harry happy again, something he hadn’t been able to do all week, was sort of a blow to his gut.

He wanted to feel relief because Harry was finally feeling better and he had clearly made things right with Louis, but Zayn had really wanted to wake up to his curly-haired boyfriend and snuggle and even though the breakfast was perfect, he wished he could have shared it with Harry, which made him sound whiny and absurd because really, who complained about getting a full breakfast made for them?

But Harry was looking at Louis in this special way and Louis was looking right back at him and they looked kind of perfect together, like they fit and like they were made for each other, reminding Zayn of the final challenge, when they had been forced to play gay chicken and ended up making out instead.

He was a little shocked when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket because lately he had only really been texting Harry, and that was only when they were apart.

[From: Unknown 12:23 PM]

**You’re being played…he’s just using you to get into DKE so he and Louis will both make it.**

Zayn read the text, looking between his phone and the sight of Louis and Harry together, and he couldn’t deny that the text hit a sensitive spot within him.

~O~


	14. Confused

Initially, Zayn ignored the text. He let the little stab in his heart go unmentioned and deleted the message (although he saved the number as ‘Unknown Asshole’), and was able to ignore that he had even received it, especially when Harry came back inside and greeted him with the widest smile and a big, sloppy kiss.

They had gone about their day normally, it was Thursday after all, and were so busy they didn’t get to see much of each other until it was Friday and they had attended their classes before meeting up as usual and doing what they always did, which was dinner and just hanging out in Zayn’s room, except this time, or now that Louis and Harry had made up, it turned into dinner and then hanging out with Louis and Liam.

And that was totally fine, really, it was, because Zayn hadn’t hung out with Liam too much lately, but god- and this was totally silly- he had kept getting those texts, and at first he tried to ignore them because they were stupid and just trying to get to him, except, well, they kind of were.

The latest one had read: **You do know Harry and Louis used to fuck right? Do you really think they’ve stopped? Just saying…watch the way they touch each other still.**

The amount of texts he had gotten from this anonymous person was appalling, seriously, who took the time to text him at least twenty times in the past two days? This most recent one had shown up no less than a couple minutes ago, and it was the tenth one of the day, not like he was counting or anything.

So, he quickly deleted the text and slid his phone into his pocket before looking back up at the television and trying as hard as he could to watch the movie (The Notebook- Harry’s choice and who was he to say no to his boyfriend, especially when he made that pouty face?). Harry was snuggled into his side, but kept moving to whisper things into Louis’ ear and Zayn was perfectly aware of the way Louis’ hand was running through Harry’s hair and how Harry was playing with the sliver of skin showing as Louis’ too tight of a shirt rode up.

Liam looked perfectly content and was tearing up a little at the movie, completely unaware of his own boyfriend’s flirtatious antics (fuck, Zayn was really starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend) and Zayn shifted again to accommodate Harry’s constant fidgeting.

He couldn’t help but notice that Harry was now closer to Louis than he was to Zayn, and Zayn found himself a little annoyed that Harry’s legs were now sprawled out in his lap, while his head was residing on none other than Louis’ lap. His younger boyfriend had his eyes closed and wasn’t even watching the movie he had chosen as Louis continued to play with his curly hair, and Zayn could tell without even hearing that Harry was making little mewling noises at the feeling. Usually he found it sweet and really fucking adorable, but he only found it kind of annoying at the moment.

And apparently, the anonymous asshole wasn’t going to stop until Zayn’s relationship with Harry was over- not that Zayn would surrender that easily, no he just wanted to act as if no one was watching them- but he knew as soon as he felt the buzz in his pocket that the unknown person would be sending him another disheartening message.

[From: Unknown Asshole 9:34 PM]

**Bet he loves sucking your cock and then sucking Louis’ right after.**

Zayn looked from his phone at his boyfriend, whose eyes were still closed, and just happened to be licking his lips right when Zayn looked over- unconsciously of course because there was no way he could have known about the text- and Zayn couldn’t help but shiver a little at the coincidence before deleting the text immediately.

That one was different from most of the other ones, which had mainly just pointed out how close Louis and Harry were, never really going into the sexual activities Zayn knew Louis and Harry had partaken in at one point.

Fuck, what was he even thinking?

Harry said he and Louis stopped, so Zayn was going to choose to believe him.

And he managed to forget for a while because Harry had pushed himself off of Louis’ lap and snuggled back into his side until the movie was over. He even was able to ignore his annoyance and the text messages as Louis and Harry bickered over something pointless before sharing an ice cream cone (who shares an ice cream _cone_?).

When it was finally bed time, and Harry had finished up brushing his teeth (with Louis, like seriously, it was almost better when they were arguing, except Zayn felt bad for thinking that because Harry was smiling now), Zayn couldn’t really let go of his annoyance enough to want more than a smoke and his bed. He certainly didn’t expect Harry to climb on top of him and push him on his back, peppering the older lad’s neck with soft kisses and rolling their hips together.

It was hard to push Harry away, but then, with a flash of extra annoyance, Zayn did. It took effort, though, and it was hard pretending he didn’t see the flash of hurt as it ran through Harry’s wide green eyes, but he was just tired and had all this pent up, like, stress/worry/annoyance/doubt.

“Not in the mood,” Zayn offered, his mumbled statement doing little to appease the younger lad’s hurt. He watched as Harry crawled under his covers, snuggling into one side of the bed, and he sighed, running his fingers through his now unkempt hair. He had sat up and was sitting on the edge of the bed, where he stayed for a good while, just watching as his boyfriend closed his eyes, effectively shutting Zayn out as well.

Eventually, when he thought Harry had fallen asleep- he hadn’t- he stood up and grabbed his pipe, going into the backyard for a smoke, just wanting to feel the high and forget about any problems he was having. It had always helped him before and he hoped this would be the case now, wanting to rid himself of these thoughts because they were kind of grating and hard to deal with.

It was cold and he shivered his way through two bowls before deciding that the moon and stars weren’t very good company, and at that point, his flesh was covered with goosebumps and he was more than ready to get into bed.

The smoke didn’t really get rid of his thoughts at all, but he felt calmer and a little less like he was going to just burst with whatever feeling this was, which was a definite improvement from earlier.

It did feel really good, sliding into his bed, where Harry was lying, warm and smelling his own comforting scent. Zayn was a little surprised when Harry’s arms snaked around him and pulled him close, having thought the younger lad was asleep, but he fell into the embrace, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips and then forehead.

Harry didn’t ask why Zayn smelt like weed, Zayn didn’t ask Harry about Louis, and eventually they both fell into a restless sleep.

~O~

Much to his dismay, the texts had continued to appear all of Saturday. They made Zayn fidget and squirm with discomfort until he eventually turned off his phone for a while, but turned it back on as he succumbed to his own curiosity of what the anonymous person would say to him.

And they didn’t disappoint, causing the sinking feeling in Zayn’s gut to drop even lower until he was sure he would throw up if he got another message.

The worst part was that Harry was beginning to notice. The younger lad kept looking at him curiously, although not worriedly, and Zayn made a conscious effort to ignore the buzzing of his phone, even if he was kind of desperate to see what the anonymous person had to say.

He hadn’t replied to any of the texts. What do you even say? Like, ‘oh, please stop texting me these rude things, you’re making me question my relationship and I don’t like it’. No, that would just give the person exactly what they wanted.

He was trying to listen to what Harry was saying- the younger boy was ranting about one of his professors- and simultaneously ignore the way Harry’s hand was also resting on his thigh, trailing dangerously close to his crotch, while also, pretending that his phone hadn’t been buzzing every couple of minutes, and no one really texted him lately except Harry and the anonymous person, and seeing as he was at lunch with Harry, well, he knew exactly who was texting him. It made it worse that Harry’s hand was just below the pocket with his phone in it, and he saw the way Harry’s eyebrows twitched at each vibrate, even if the curly-haired lad didn’t say anything.

When his phone vibrated again, though, Harry raised his eyebrows and stared directly into Zayn’s eyes, questioning him a little before moving his lips to speak.

“You gonna answer that, babe? Seems like someone wants your attention,” Harry asked, his voice all low and slow and sort of grumbling deep from his chest. He kept his hand on Zayn’s thigh, though, and was looking back at the food on his plate, so he couldn’t have been annoyed. When Zayn was sure that Harry was more focused on his food, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and sure enough, he had a good ten messages- nine from the anonymous person and one from Niall.

He quickly deleted all of the ones from the anonymous person, and typed out a quick response to Niall, who was asking if Zayn could help him with an outfit, which Zayn was more than happy to agree to.

“So, who was so desperately vying for your attention? Should I be worried?” Harry teased, and Zayn knew he was just kidding because he had that silly glint in his eyes, but he couldn’t help but freeze up at the question because fuck, he didn’t want Harry to know about the unknown person texting him.

It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong, but he knew it wasn’t quite right to continue to read the messages and he really should change his number or block the anonymous number, but shit, it just, the person had such a realistic point and Zayn was kind of curious to see if they were right. Well, no, okay, not curious because that would mean it wouldn’t hurt him to find out that Harry was just using him, which he really hoped wasn’t true. He just didn’t want to be played and if Harry was actually playing him, he wanted to know.

So, yeah, he kind of stuttered out his reply, “I- erm- Niall needed- uhm- some help with an outfit, yeah- he was having some clothing troubles.”

It felt dirty and wrong to say, even though it was the complete truth, and he felt even worse when Harry just leaned over to kiss him and continued eating after, snuggling into Zayn’s side and telling him about how he had dreams to travel after college.

He could tell that Harry wasn’t quite convinced by his answer, but he lost himself in the younger lad’s rambling, and they both continued to ignore the buzzing of his phone for the rest of the afternoon.

~O~

He was glad it was working; he could practically see the gleam of doubt and worry in Zayn Malik’s eyes as he received every text and watched his boyfriend extra carefully.

It was perfect and everything was happening according to plan.

For once in his life, it was turning out the way he chose, and so, he continued to send text message after text message because, well, he wanted to keep to the plan.

He would get revenge for getting cut from the frat by making Zayn and his stupid little boyfriend miserable.

He deserved to be in the frat, he was _supposed_ to be in the frat, and well, if he wasn’t going to be in DKE, he would make sure everyone in it was absolutely, downright in the shits.

~O~

Zayn knew he should be in the design room, working on the project he had due in a couple weeks, but he was in his room and it was just him and Harry for once, and he was just really comfortable with the younger boy curled around him.

The XX was playing from the stereo and Zayn could feel the music thrumming through his veins, relaxing him, and he tightened an arm around Harry. It was rare for them to do this, on a Monday nonetheless, but it was an opportunity he wouldn’t pass up or ruin because the whole weekend had been a whirlwind of mainly _HarryandLouis_ so Zayn felt as if he hadn’t really seen his boyfriend too much, even if they had been together basically every day, and almost every minute.

It was still early, but Harry had snuck into his room a little while ago, returning from his 9 AM class and falling into Zayn’s bed, seemingly exhausted. He hadn’t slept over the previous night, claiming he needed to show up in his dorm for once because his roommate and suitemates had begun to think he had disappeared or something. Zayn realized that they had been sleeping in his room for a while, but he hadn’t really noticed, enjoying waking up to his boyfriend and having Harry pressed against him during the night. But he supposed Harry was right, so he let the younger lad sleep in his own dorm that night.

It did nothing to appease his questions about his relationship with Louis, though.

However, it seemed that Harry hadn’t slept very well the night before- Zayn would admit that he spent most of the night tossing and turning, searching for the familiar warmth of Harry’s body- and the younger lad had basically fallen asleep on Zayn immediately upon collapsing in his bed.

So, yeah, Zayn figured that Harry had the same problem he did the night before.

Of course, he could have been tired for another reason…like staying up late with Louis…but Zayn could have sworn he heard or saw Louis leaving Liam’s room that morning, so it couldn’t have been the case. And Zayn certainly didn’t want that to be the case, as much as the anonymous texter wanted him to believe.

He let himself drift off, though, to the sound of Angels by The XX and Harry’s soft breathing against his neck, and he couldn’t help if he gripped the curly-haired boy to his side tightly in his sleep.

*

He was awoke to slight movement and soft kisses to his neck, but the boy pressing kisses to his skin didn’t seem to be up for doing much more than that, so Zayn just sunk deeper into his boyfriend’s embrace. Harry wasn’t one for too much physical touch, okay, well, maybe that wasn’t true because Harry and Louis were always touching, but it had taken the younger lad a lot longer to warm up to Zayn in more of a physical way.

But, Zayn guessed, Harry had been touching him more often (and no not in the dirty way), giving him sweet caresses and soft kisses.

It was nice, and well, it made him rethink all of the things the unknown person had been telling him.

He couldn’t help but wonder, though, or want to ask Harry about certain things.

“Why did you want to be in the frat? It just, I dunno, doesn’t seem like your scene,” Zayn asked quietly after a while of just cuddling, and when he knew they were both perfectly awake. It was a question that had been rolling around his brain for a while and he was really curious as to what Harry would say.

He didn’t miss the way Harry tensed a little by his side, which only provoked his curiosity on the subject, but he didn’t want to push the younger lad away, so he waited patiently for Harry to answer.

“Well, to be honest, in the beginning, it was because of Louis…” Harry replied, and Zayn could tell by the way he didn’t look up that he was scared of Zayn’s reaction, but he was being honest, so the older lad was glad for that, but at the same time…not because…because…he joined DKE purely for Louis.

Louis.

Louis fucking Tomlinson.

What was it about him?

Zayn really didn’t know. He understood that Harry had known him for ages and couldn’t really put any blame on his boyfriend because how would the younger lad know that it would make Zayn jealous when he hadn’t even known Zayn at the time? But, well, yeah Zayn was jealous because Harry had wanted to join DKE for Louis and purely Louis. Of course he would be jealous of that? Why wouldn’t he be jealous of that?

He couldn’t help asking, though, “And now?”

Harry finally moved his head at that, swishing his hair back over his forehead as he eyed Zayn incredulously and Zayn kind of detested him in that moment (but not really) because he always had those blown-out green eyes and perfect skin and curly hair and he was just so _Harry_ , all effortless and attractive and sweet and sexy. Zayn hated how Harry could make him feel so jealous and doubtful and kind of hurt in a stupid way (because he shouldn’t even be worried about Louis…but he was) and how Harry could just do this to him with a slow blink of his eyes and his wide dimples.

Zayn wanted to hate Louis, as well, but he couldn’t even do that because Louis made Harry happy which made Zayn happy, and, fuck, Louis was funny and hadn’t been anything but nice. Plus, he made Liam happy, too.

“Well, now, I mean, now I’m in it for Niall,” Harry spoke his slow, deep drawl, and his face was straight and serious and Zayn honestly had a hard time telling if it was a joke (he knew it was really) or if Harry was being serious, but the younger lad couldn’t stop himself from smirking, so yeah, he was joking like Zayn had thought.

Harry leaned forward to press a kiss to Zayn’s lips, and it was nice, like really fucking nice, but he didn’t make any move to actually answer the question (which was why he wanted to join DKE now) and Zayn didn’t think he was hiding anything and didn’t want to think he was hiding anything, but Harry hadn’t told him the answer he wanted to hear (which was that he was joining DKE for Zayn) and it kind of stung in this unexpected way; like when you pour pasta into the pot and the water splashes up at you and lands on your arms, stinging in little dots when it was supposed to stay right in the metal pot.

Zayn let himself mold against Harry’s body though, and they fell into the familiar rhythm of each other, so he was able to push these thoughts back because Harry wanted him and that was enough for now.

*

Zayn didn’t wake up until later, but it was once more to an empty spot beside him. He shivered a little without the extra warmth of Harry’s body, even though it was about two in the afternoon, and probably decently warm outside. He just couldn’t get used to waking up with the curly-haired lad and to him that was very, very frightening.

When he rolled over on the pillow, he heard and felt the crunch of paper, and soon discovered a note. He smiled, seeing that it was from Harry.

_Hey babe-_

_You looked tired so I let you sleep. Sorry I couldn’t have stayed longer, but can I sleep over tonight? I didn’t sleep too much last night without you…_

_-Harry_ <3

The note was short, but it confirmed what Zayn had been thinking (at least about the whole not sleeping together thing) and either Harry was a really good liar and knew exactly how to make Zayn swoon, or he was just really this sweet and knew how to make Zayn swoon.

In any case, Zayn certainly swooned after reading the note, and pulled his phone out to text Harry. At the last minute, he decided to call, though, because Harry didn’t have class this afternoon so he was likely to answer.

The phone rang and rang as Zayn waited impatiently, but Harry didn’t answer, so he ended the call without leaving a message. He couldn’t help the little frown that appeared on his face because Harry always answered his phone calls, unless he had class, and Zayn couldn’t recall the younger lad mentioning that he had to do something in particular.

So, Zayn got up, made sure his hair wasn’t too horribly mussed up, dressed himself (impeccably, as per usual), and walked to his design room, taking the long way and adding an extra fifteen minutes to the twenty minute walk. In the thirty-five minute walk, he, of course, most definitely did not hold his phone tightly in his hand just in case Harry called, and he certainly didn’t feel a little put out when his phone didn’t buzz even once because, well, he hadn’t been paying attention to it at all. This was a lie, though, because he had been clutching the electronic device as tightly as possible and checking it just as often, but to no avail because Harry didn’t so much as text him at all.

And, if he decided to text Harry when he got to his design room, it was simply because he was curious what his boyfriend was doing, and not because he was kind of worried that Harry was doing something like, maybe, you know, being sexually active with someone else (-Louis-).

He was pretty good at lying to himself, but he texted Harry anyway.

[To: Hazza(: 3:46 PM]

**Hey babe. Thx for the note…course you can stay over at mine tonight. Watcha up to?**

He desperately wanted to add in that he missed Harry the night before and barely got an ounce of sleep without him there, but he figured it was bad enough that he was being _that guy_ , you know, the one who was getting suspicious just because his boyfriend didn’t answer the phone or call back within less than an hour?

Ugh, it was pitiful, really.

He kept his phone in his pocket, though, and set to work designing in an attempt at getting his mind off of Harry. It worked for a little while, but when his phone buzzed, well, he couldn’t help but whip it out right away.

It wasn’t Harry replying, though.

[From: Unknown Asshole 4:13 PM]

**Look at what the lovers got up to this afternoon! A little bit of footie turned into…whispering closely? Jealous yet, Malik?**

And fuck, yeah, he was jealous, and kind of mad because really? Harry was hanging out with Louis and hadn’t mentioned it and that definitely hit a sore spot and he couldn’t even deny it this time.

So, when Harry finally texted him back hours later, Zayn wasn’t even sure what to do.

[From: Hazza(: 10:23 PM]

**Hii! Sorry I was out with Lou this afternoon. Can I come over? (: .xx**

The little ‘kisses’ at the end of the text weren’t even enough to make Zayn’s heart feel any better and there was really no way he could be around Harry that night without blowing up, so he chose, instead, to have another sleepless night.

[To: Hazza(: 10:33 PM]

**Shit! Sorry babe I’m going to be in the studio late tonight…how about I just see you tm?**

He felt no better when Harry replied, and in fact, felt even worse, especially because he was in bed already, tossing and turning uncomfortably.

[From: Hazza(: 10:35 PM]

**Aw boo :( Ok…have fun in the studio! .xx**

~O~


	15. The Ultimatum

Zayn had done a lot of thinking in the past two days, or at least ever since Monday (it was now Wednesday). He thought mainly about Harry (because what else did he even think about these days?) and their relationship and what he wanted.

And he had come to the decision that he didn’t really know what to think anymore and that as much as he wanted things to be different, it was really hard for him to trust the younger lad.

So, yeah, maybe he had been thinking a lot about all of the texts he had been receiving, but as rude and annoying as they were, all of the messages had held some semblance of truth.

He wanted to trust Harry, he really did, but there was just…something not right, or something missing.

As they got closer and closer to the final cuts, the younger lad had gotten quieter, and well, more with-drawn. Maybe Zayn was imagining things, or maybe Harry wasn’t as into the relationship as Zayn originally thought.

Trust was definitely a big issue, though, and it always had been for him. It took a while for Zayn to trust people, and it was also very easy for people to lose his trust. Sometimes this was a blessing and sometimes it was a curse, but with Harry, he had jumped into the relationship so suddenly and trusted so openly that now he was doubtful whether or not the curly-haired lad had really earned his trust at all.

But Zayn also didn’t want to push Harry away because he had never felt this happy; at least, as happy as he was when he hadn’t doubted anything in their relationship. And by god he didn’t want to lose that, yet he already had.

What was he thinking?

He stood up, pacing back and forth across the studio, and toying with the phone in his hand. He knew what it had come down to and he knew exactly what he had to do and why he had to do it, but something felt so utterly wrong and he just wanted it to be all right again.

He just wanted Harry to make things right again.

He hadn’t really ever been this dramatic about any of his relationships and he wasn’t used to it at all. It was weird- all these feelings- and he kind of wished for a smoke, but knew he couldn’t have this conversation high.

Serious conversations were not meant to be had while intoxicated, he knew this after watching his parents for years.

But yeah, he could definitely go for a smoke.

Already, he was mentally digressing, and god he just wanted to smack himself.

He wasn’t good at organizing his thoughts, no that was Liam’s forte, but he knew he needed to and he had about ten minutes before Harry was due to arrive (Zayn had asked the younger lad to meet him at his studio).

So, he decided to take a page out of Liam’s book and write down his thoughts and reasons for what he was about to do, and this is what he wrote:

_1) I’m not sure what is going on with Harry and Louis; ie. Whether or not their relationship is at a platonic stage or not._

_2) The “Unknown Asshole” has made really good points._

_3) I think I could love him._

_4) I need to be able to trust Harry._

_5) What the hell am I doing writing a list? This isn’t helping and I feel dumb._

Okay, so yeah, maybe the list writing didn’t help Zayn at all, but it had wasted time, and shit, Harry was here and looking at him curiously, his head cocked to the side. Zayn quickly stood up, crumpling the piece of paper and tossing it into the trash as inconspicuously as possible.

The curly-haired lad strode over to Zayn, his long legs carrying him at a fast rate until he stood right in front of the older lad, and Harry made quick work of pressing their lips together.

“Missed you,” Harry murmured, and his hands had made their way to Zayn’s hips, holding him tightly. Zayn expected the kiss to be rough, but Harry’s lips were soft and gentle, pressing into Zayn’s mouth with care and this, this _thing_.

It was the thing that had been hovering over both of them for the past couple of days, the thing that had Harry hesitating into Zayn’s arms and closing his mouth instead of speaking.

It was uncomfortable and just kind of rested there between them and Zayn couldn’t help but feel as if it were creating a barrier between them.

Zayn sighed.

Even with the _thing_ there, the unspoken quietness of Harry’s, the younger lad still felt so comfortable and familiar that Zayn really didn’t want to have to do this, he didn’t want to have to ask.

But he needed to, so he pushed Harry back, offering no explanation as to why, and instead, jumping right into what he needed to say.

“Look, Haz, I just- I need to ask you something, okay?”

Harry nodded, and for some reason, his green eyes were sparkling with some unknown emotion that Zayn couldn’t quite place.

It was that, that _thing_.

He felt ridiculous thinking it because calling it ‘the thing’ made it seem odd, or alien, or like creepy, but it was none of those things, no it was just unknown and Zayn didn’t know where or how to place it or even how to feel about it. It was just kind of there and he wanted to touch it or feel it or even ask about it, but what would he ask? ‘Hey, Haz, what’s that _thing_ in your eyes and your touch?’ No, that sounded even more ridiculous.

“And after, I need to tell you something important,” Harry agreed, and _nonono_ , why was Harry agreeing? Shouldn’t he be protesting? Isn’t that what usually happened when one’s significant other was asking something serious?

_What was Harry thinking?_

And Zayn didn’t want to ask, he really didn’t but he was asking before he could stop himself.

There was no preamble or lead up or indication of the question, he just spit it out like it was hurting him (which it was, really, kind of burning his gut in the worst sort of way) and he spoke quickly.

“Me or DKE?”

Zayn knew what he was asking and his voice was cool, lacking in emotion, and it had caught Harry by surprise, clearly he wasn’t expecting that.

It was as close as he could get to making Harry choose between him and Louis because Harry had joined DKE for _Louis_. Yeah, it was a hard thing to ask, but Zayn just had to know, he had to know if Harry would choose Louis over him, and while it was a low blow, the lowest blow with which he could have hit Harry, he didn’t think he could keep their relationship going if he was just second best.

He didn’t want to settle for being the second best to anyone.

The worst part of this, though, was that he was basically asking Harry to choose Louis over him, to confirm his thoughts that he couldn’t be good enough for anyone in this intimate way. It was like this little part of him was living off of that rejection and denial and he didn’t know why he was doing this to himself.

Wouldn’t he rather be happy?

It didn’t make sense, to be so masochistic and to go through this unneeded pain, but perhaps he was petty, or hadn’t matured quite yet, or maybe, maybe he was just human and needed some type of reassurance.

Maybe he just needed someone to tell him he was wanted.

What Zayn didn’t know, though, was that there wasn’t really a comparison between him and Louis. In Harry’s mind, Louis had a part of his heart and Zayn had an equal, but different part. It wasn’t like Louis was above Zayn, or Zayn was above Louis, but rather, Louis was his best friend and Zayn was his boyfriend, and he loved them both, although in different ways.

So, Harry hesitated in answering.

Zayn, of course, took this hesitation in stride and knew he had his answer. If Harry had to hesitate before answering, wasn’t he already second best?

He knew Louis was the reason that Harry joined DKE, and he desperately wanted to be the reason why Harry wanted to be in DKE, so he figured by taking DKE out of the picture, it would help Harry choose him or Louis.

The longer Harry didn’t answer, the longer Zayn felt more sure that Harry was going to choose DKE, and he found he didn’t really want to hear the younger lad’s answer in that moment.

He honestly didn’t even know why he had asked anymore.

So, he broke the silence, “Think about it.”

His voice seemed to do something to the younger boy because Harry’s eyes went wide and frantic as he shook his hair out, mussing it up in a way that made him look crazed and wild.

But he still didn’t speak.

He didn’t tell Zayn what he wanted to hear and he didn’t do anything to stop the pain Zayn was feeling from giving Harry the ultimatum. It’s not as if Zayn _wanted to_ it was that he _needed to_ because if he hadn’t he surely would have driven himself up a wall with all of the doubts and worries.

Harry didn’t say anything, though, not as Zayn began backing away, or when he turned and walked away from the younger lad.

He didn’t speak and he was left alone, feeling more hopeless than he ever had before, the confession he had wanted to make to Zayn bitter and almost unwanted on his tongue.

~O~

“Liam, fuck, Liam, open your door, please, please let me in,” Zayn pounded on Liam’s bedroom door, his hand going numb from banging on the wood, but Liam still wasn’t answering and he really just needed Liam to open the damn door.

He knew it had been a bad idea, he just knew it, and yet, he had done it anyway, but he hadn’t missed the way Harry sunk to the floor the moment he left, nor had he missed the loud sobs that had come from inside the studio.

He hadn’t even been able to really leave, only making it right outside the door, where he fell to the floor, disregarding the dirt on the ground.

Of course, he had eventually managed to leave, but he had to drag himself off the ground and he stumbled down the stairs until he broke out into a sprint and ran all the way back to the house, where he was currently about to break down right in front of Liam’s bedroom door.

Finally, he heard a muffled, “I’m coming,” from inside the room, and he stopped knocking, but he couldn’t quite halt the sinking feeling inside and when Liam finally opened the door, Zayn threw himself forward, completely disregarding the fact that Liam was shirtless and based on Louis’ unnoticed presence in the room, had been involved in a sexual activity.

Liam didn’t mention anything, catching Zayn and almost toppling backward from the weight of him. The moment he had heard Zayn banging on his door he knew something was wrong. Zayn wasn’t desperate or dramatic, that was Niall’s spot to fill, and for Zayn to be pounding on his door and begging Liam to open it, well, something wasn’t right.

“Liam, I think I’ve made a really huge mistake,” Zayn mumbled miserably into Liam’s shoulder, and that was all it took to put him over the edge and he was crying for the first time in years.

His shoulders wracked with sobs and his entire body shook, the trembles and vibrations pushing back against Liam’s arms until he just held on tighter to Zayn, hoping to give his friend some type of support.

Zayn couldn’t even remember the last time he cried and neither could Liam, which was a shock to both of them. As much as he’d deny it later, this probably should have happened a long, long time ago; the crying that is. He had a tendency to bottle things up and not talk about them until they came back and bit him in the arse, and this time was no different.

While Liam was quite good at the whole ‘big brother’ thing, he hadn’t ever dealt with a crying Zayn, and he looked over his shoulder at Louis with wide eyes, and not sure what to do with the sobbing boy in his arms, he proceeded to move toward the bed, rubbing Zayn’s back calmly and in what he hoped was a comforting way.

Louis snuck out of the room simultaneously, grabbing some of Liam’s clothes on his way out, and left the two older boys to themselves.

When Zayn calmed down a little, Liam finally asked, “Zayner…what happened?”

But, to both of their surprises, the question only managed to throw Zayn back into a state of despair- his lower lips quivering and his eyes welling up with tears.

Zayn may have mistaken Harry’s silence for betrayal, but after hearing Harry’s cries, Zayn realized he had been so, utterly wrong.

It was the _thing_ , the thing that had been in the air and weighing down on them, unspoken but still there.

It was the reason Harry had been so quiet and hadn’t talked very much lately.

It was the reason Harry hesitated and didn’t speak when Zayn gave him the ultimatum earlier.

Harry’s silence wasn’t a choice or a decision, no, Zayn was wrong about that one because Harry’s silence was _love_.

~O~

[To: Unknown Asshole 11:23 PM; From: Zayn Malik]

**I hope you’re fucking happy now.**

~O~

If Harry were spiteful or mean, he probably would have done it. His hands would have followed his thoughts and he would have used all of his strength to try to make Zayn feel something akin to what he was feeling, but as he went to do it, he just, he _couldn’t_. And maybe that made him weak, hell, maybe Zayn made him weak. He had already surrendered so much to the older boy, even if a lot of it wasn’t spoken or shown, and this, the surrendering of his strength- mentally, at least- was one of the final steps.

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, though, no matter how much he wanted to make Zayn hurt, he couldn’t ruin the precious work and time and effort Zayn had spent making the clothing.

So, Harry set down the shirt, leaving it in perfect condition, just as it was before.

He wanted to rip it, to ruin it, to destroy every part of Zayn’s studio until it looked as if a tornado had blown through the room, but really, Harry could never do any of that.

He didn’t want to hurt Zayn, and yet, by not doing anything, it seemed that he had.

And just when things were going so well, too.

He thought they were doing all right, more than all right, but apparently, he didn’t really know much more than what the older boy made him feel, which was rainbows and smiles and a warm fuzziness that ran through his veins and overtook his brain.

He knew he should have spoken up, he knew he should have said it, but he choked on the words and he gagged on his own feelings, the acid nervousness making it hard to tell Zayn what he wanted to say.

- _Iloveyou-_

Why was this so hard for him?

After all these years he would have thought it would be easy. He could tell Louis without hesitation or guilt. He could tell his mum and his sister without second thought. For some reason, though, the thought of telling Zayn was so scary that he was unable to do it.

It was as if he were standing on the precipice of a cliff, about to fall off, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop himself from falling and he was unable to just reach out and hold onto the ledge.

He wanted to tell Zayn, he wanted to shout it to the world, but instead, he had resorted to showing without telling.

He fell back on using soft touches, hoping that Zayn would understand what he meant when he brushed his fingers in a certain way and maybe he would get what Harry was trying to tell him because he was basically drawing out the words and the letters onto Zayn’s skin.

He tried using his lips, wishing that Zayn would get what he meant when he pushed or pulled against Zayn’s mouth; that maybe Zayn would understand that a soft kiss meant _Iloveyou_ and a hard kiss meant _Ineedyou_. He wanted to tell Zayn a thousand messages with a simple meeting of their bodies and he tried to push his feelings from his body and into Zayn’s through their mouths.

He even attempted to speak with his eyes, the green simmering from dark to light as emotions flickered around his bright orbs, and he thought that maybe Zayn would get it when he stared, that maybe Zayn would understand just how _beautiful_ Harry thought he was and how much he was bursting with love because all he could see was _ZaynZaynZayn_.

He used every unspoken moment- the silence and the breathing and the kisses and touches and text messages and cuddling- to try to tell Zayn how he felt, and yet, he regretted not saying the words out loud because maybe if he had, maybe if he had used the small ounce of courage, Zayn would have understood.

- _Iloveyou_ -

But maybe, his love was too small, or perhaps it was too skinny. Maybe even, it hadn’t had enough time to bloom- like a small child without proper nourishment- maybe it hadn’t had enough sustenance to grow into something bigger, something visible.

Maybe his love was just invisible, floating there in space, touching Zayn everywhere, but unseen, hidden.

He wanted to tell Zayn so badly, though, and he had his chance, he could have, he should have, but he didn’t.

And that hurt more than anything, this knowing that he had given up the chance to show his love in a visible way, in a way that would have fed it and given it the means to grow and grow.

He knew he was pathetic, or at least acting in a pathetic way, especially when he had collapsed crying on the floor after watching Zayn walk away, and yeah, even thinking about ripping Zayn’s work was pathetic because he should have known this would happen to him.

He shouldn’t have believed the fairytales or the media; he never should have believed Louis.

_“Lou, does love always have a happy ending like it does in The Lion King?” Harry asked, and he was young in the moment, even younger than his ten years would have suggested. It was apparent in the way his eyes were too wide and big for his face, the way his curls overbalanced the rest of his features, like an overgrown forest on his head, the way his voice was too high-pitched, the way some of his baby chub still hung from his hips and cheeks, and especially in the way that he hung onto every word his best friend Louis spoke._

_“Of course it does, Haz. It’s love, love always has a happy ending,” Louis replied matter-a-factly. His blue eyes shone with such wisdom and confidence that Harry had no choice but to believe what he was saying because why would Louis ever lie about that? About something like this?_

_“Why do you ask, Hazza?”_

_Harry hesitated, not sure if this was something he should discuss with Louis, but he decided to anyway because Louis was his best friend, and he could trust Louis with anything._

_“My mum and dad have been fighting a lot, and when I asked why they weren’t so happy with each other even if they loved each other my mum told me that sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep people happy with each other, but then, in The Lion King, even when Nala isn’t happy with Simba, and Simba isn’t happy with Nala, and they fight, they still end up happy together, right?”_

_Louis thought about it for a second, his own brain racing as he thought about what Harry was asking and the ideas he was proposing, but he knew what Harry was saying wasn’t true._

_“No, Hazza, love has a happy ending. Your parents will be just fine because they love each other.”_

Harry had let the topic drop that day, and when he was sixteen and his parents got divorced he didn’t even think about the discussion, but now, he thought about that conversation with Louis.

Louis had been so sure, so adamant, and Harry had always believed him, but with everything happening with Zayn, he suddenly found himself doubting it and thinking that maybe Louis had lied to him because love like this? It didn’t feel like there would be a happy ending and it hurt.

He wanted to believe that he and Zayn would get their happy ending, but whom was he kidding? He was a freshman in college, only just eighteen, and Zayn was his first serious boyfriend.

What were the chances that they would get their happy ending?

How was he supposed to even know if this was love?

And the most important question, was it worth it, giving up something that meant so much to his friendship with Louis, just for this love?

He wanted to believe that it would be, that he could choose Zayn over DKE because of the love that was swelling up in his chest and clawing at his throat.

He wanted to believe that Louis would understand if he dropped out of the pledging process, if only to give himself more of a chance to be happy with Zayn.

He wanted to believe that it would be the forever kind of love, the one in a billion kind that sparkled and sparkled and never died out.

But how do you know?

How is one ever sure if it was what is believed?

Harry really wasn’t sure of any of it at all, and that, well, that was a lot scarier than admitting aloud that he loved Zayn.

~O~


	16. Final Cuts

“Are you ready for this?” Liam asked; his gaze worried as he looked at one of his best friends, who stood across the room, looking out the window at their lawn.

The green grass was filled with boys waiting to hear the final results, and people were still showing up slowly, trickling in and taking their places in the respective groups.

Zayn’s eyes were trained on one group in particular- his group- and Liam knew he was looking for one person and one person only. If Zayn’s complete stillness and unresponsiveness was any indicator, Liam would bet that a certain curly-haired lad had still not arrived.

“Zee,” Liam spoke softly, letting a gentle hand rest on the dark-haired boy’s shoulder. “C’mon, we have to go.”

Zayn still didn’t reply, nor did he make a move to follow Liam, who had begun to make his way to the door and toward Niall, who already stood outside, laughing loudly and joking with the nervous pledges.

Liam paused when he got to the door, “He’ll be here…and if he isn’t, well, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Liam didn’t wait for an answer this time as he stepped out into the sunlight and joined Niall. His presence seemed to have a silencing affect because the crowd immediately went completely still and all eyes turned to Liam.

Zayn watched from the window as Liam began to speak, and he could feel the palpable tension rising in the crowds even from his place inside. There was a nervous sheen hovering over every boy as they waited in hopes of making it past the final cuts.

Zayn didn’t really care anymore, though, because he only wanted one person there.

He knew he fucked up, he fucked up big time, and he wished he could go back in time and relive the entire conversation with Harry.

It had been two days and the younger lad still hadn’t contacted him.

Zayn didn’t know how to take this, though, because did that mean Harry was choosing DKE, or did it mean Harry was choosing him?

He both wanted Harry to show up and he didn’t, and he couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that Harry still hadn’t arrived on the grass, yet.

Did that mean something?

Zayn knew his ultimatum was unfair, like Christ, who was he to make Harry choose between his boyfriend and his best friend?

Liam had pointed out the day before that Zayn himself wouldn’t be able to choose between Liam or Niall and Harry, so how could he expect Harry to do the same with him and Louis?

And, Liam also slapped Zayn across the face for thinking that Harry and Louis would be anything but faithful to both of them, reminding the dark-haired boy that Louis was very much in an utterly honest relationship with him, and while, yes, Harry and Louis had something of a past, they were at a completely platonic stage in their relationship, and it was going to stay that way.

Of course, Liam being Liam proceeded to kiss his reddened cheek and pull him into a hug, also stating that everything would work out in the end (Zayn wasn’t so sure about that part, but he took everything Liam gave him), and then, Louis came back in and kind of repeated the entire process once he heard what happened, except he slapped multiple times and much, much harder.

Once he found himself back inside his own room, Zayn called up his phone company and had them block the Unknown Asshole’s phone number, and then, he deleted all of the text messages.

He was stupid to have even read them as it was, and even dumber to have believed them, when Harry had been nothing but loving and sweet and maybe a little shy and reserved, and had done absolutely nothing that should have made Zayn worry.

So, yeah he was kind of a major idiot and he could admit that, but he still hadn’t heard from the curly-haired lad, and that was enough to worry him.

He tried to contact Harry, leaving voicemails and sending texts, but according to Louis, who knew where Harry was and just wouldn’t say anything (hinting, “He’s closer than you think.”), Harry was perfectly fine and if he hadn’t gone to his classes on Thursday it was okay because he was a big, curly-haired boy who was getting good grades and simply had a lot to think about.

Of course, this didn’t soothe Zayn’s qualms, and he still found himself staring out the window that Friday watching the grass and hoping that Harry would arrive, no matter if that meant the curly-haired boy was choosing his best friend.

In all truths, Zayn almost wanted Harry to choose DKE because that meant that he was a very loyal friend, but at the same time, him not choosing DKE would show Zayn exactly what he wanted, which was the fact that Harry really did care very deeply about him.

Zayn was still thinking about _the thing_ and what it could possible mean- _love_ \- but he decided he didn’t want to put words into Harry’s mouth, or assume that _the thing_ was, in fact, _love_ , so he decided to wait until he talked to Harry in person to come to any conclusion about what it could possibly be.

However, he had decided that what he was feeling about _the thing_ was what he sort of believed Harry to be feeling, and that all of his own silences and small touches and whispered kisses and gooey-eyed looks definitely meant he was feeling some sort of really strong, very passionate, and extremely over-bearing type of love toward the younger lad.

So, yeah, Zayn concluded that he was definitely head-over-heels in love with Harry, and he was okay with that.

However, he still really wanted Harry to show up or reply to one of his text messages or, you know, maybe call him even just to tell him he was all right and wasn’t dead or something.

Wow, he had definitely been spending too much time around Louis because Zayn couldn’t remember a time when he had ever been this dramatic about _anything_.

But, the front door was opening, and this time it was Niall looking at him surprisingly seriously.

“C’mon, buddy, it’s cut time,” Niall said, and his voice was so soft and blue eyes so warm and he was holding out a hand for Zayn to hold, but Zayn just looked at him, not quite ready to face the crowd.

“Zee, you realize what this means, right? Harry not showing up?”

Zayn nodded because of course he knew what it meant.

Niall waited a few beats before grinning lightly, “He chose you, mate. Why aren’t you more excited about this?”

Zayn just sighed and mentally beat himself up because he didn’t want to make Harry _choose_ between anything. That isn’t how relationships should be, at least not healthy ones, and he wanted to make things right.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Zayn asked instead, watching as Niall gazed back at him curiously, his head cocked to one side like a puppy trying to understand English. Louis hadn’t made much of an effort to conceal that he knew Harry’s whereabouts, but Niall hadn’t mentioned anything about being in contact with the younger lad, although Zayn knew Niall and Harry had gotten really close over the past couple of months.

Niall nodded cautiously, still eyeing Zayn carefully as if worried that the other lad would like beat him up for information or something.

“Where is he, Nialler?” Zayn asked, his voice sounding small, even to his own ears, and he had never felt so tired in his entire life. He hadn’t been sleeping well without Harry and although he spent most of the time from Wednesday to Friday in his room lying on his bed, he hadn’t slept much during that entire time.

Niall looked like he was thinking deeply, and Zayn hoped that his friend would be able to tell him something, to give him some sort of clue as to where Harry was.

“Look, Zee, it’s almost time for me to do my cuts- by the way, Louis made it through- but…Harry isn’t as far away from you as you seem to think he is. In fact, he never left you,” Niall stated with a pointed look. “Do you think you can find him before your cuts? Liam and I can stall for a little while as long as you don’t take too long.”

Zayn nodded, replaying Niall’s word in his head.

_“Harry isn’t as far away from you as you seem to think he is. In fact, he never left you.”_

And suddenly, he was looking at Niall with wide eyes because he knew exactly where Harry was.

 _He hadn’t ever left_.

~O~

“You didn’t show up,” Zayn stated, leaning against the doorway and panting slightly from running up the stairs as quickly as he could.

He had guessed correctly and found Harry sitting on his workbench, staring at one of his more recent creations. It was actually one of the shirts he had created with Harry in mind, basing it off of the younger lad’s outfit that he had worn to the club.

The line was called ‘Even in the darkness, there is light’, and Zayn characterized this particular design through all black backgrounds with one part of the item white.

In the case of the shirt Harry was looking at, it was a black button down shirt with white-tipped collars.

*(Imagine something like [this](http://us.topshop.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/ProductDisplay?beginIndex=1&viewAllFlag=&catalogId=33060&storeId=13052&productId=6261369&langId=-1&sort_field=Relevance&categoryId=208637&parent_categoryId=208580&pageSize=20&refinements=Color%7b1%7d~%5bblack%5d&noOfRefinements=1) but with white not gold and as a men’s shirt)*

Harry didn’t turn around, so Zayn was left staring at his dark curls and watching as the younger lad softly ran his fingers over the shirt.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, his voice sounding neither happy nor sad, but also not indicating anything of how he was feeling.

It made Zayn hurt inside, knowing that he had caused this, but that’s why he was here; to fix things; to make things right.

“You should be there,” Zayn continued, as if it were any consolation.

Harry turned around at that, his green eyes bloodshot and eyelids puffy.

He had been crying.

“Oh?”

Zayn didn’t know what to say to that, but he knew he had to say something.

“Yeah…” he looked down at his hands, and he toyed with them, wishing desperately to know how to make things right between them. It hadn’t ever been like this before, all awkward and quiet with unspoken words pressing heavily on them. Sure, it had been quiet, but before it was comfortable and nice, warm where it was now icy cold.

Harry didn’t move, but he watched Zayn carefully, taking in how the older lad twisted his fingers and scrunched up his face as if he were in some sort of pain.

“What does that mean?” Harry questioned quietly, unsure of why Zayn was telling him that when it was obvious he had made his decision.

Wasn’t this what Zayn wanted?

But him being here didn’t seem to make Zayn happy as Harry thought it would have, instead, it seemed to be making Zayn almost sad?

What did that mean?

“For what?” Zayn replied after a little while, wondering what Harry could possibly be asking.

Didn’t Harry get that it meant he was through, or most likely through, if he passed the final test?

“For us? If I go, does that mean we’re through?”

Zayn could see Harry’s hesitance, and he understood that Harry thought that if he showed up at the final cuts, it meant they were over, but Zayn wanted him to understand why Harry should go to the final cuts.

There was one thing, Zayn realized, that Harry didn’t understand.

“Why didn’t you come today?” Zayn asked instead of answering his question, and although he already knew the answer, he couldn’t help but ask anyway.

“I made my decision.”

Harry’s answer was quick after Zayn’s question, and he seemed so sure of it, but Zayn had other plans as he motioned Harry to come toward him.

The younger lad did so carefully, and he emitted a half-squeak, half-yelp when Zayn pulled him close, pushing their bodies together and hugging him tightly.

Even after a couple days apart, Zayn found that they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and for the first time since Wednesday, he found himself comfortable and warm and comforted.

“Come on, there are the final cut announcements and we need to be there,” Zayn said after a few minutes, pulling back from the tight hug. He ignored Harry’s words purposely, not needing the younger boy to even make this decision at all.

He had another decision for Harry to make, but they needed to get back to the final cuts before he could ask the new question.

“But I made my choice-“

Zayn halted Harry’s words with a kiss because he couldn’t think of any other way to shut the curly-haired lad up, and, well, he had missed the taste of Harry and the feeling of their lips pressed together.

*

They had arrived quickly, and Harry had joined the other pledges, waiting his turn to be called up in front of the group. He saw some boys welcomed into the frat, while others were turned away, and he suddenly found himself worried because what if he didn’t make it?

After all this, what if the brothers of DKE decided he wasn’t worth it and didn’t deserve to be a part of their brotherhood?

Zayn hadn’t acknowledged his decision and that could either mean that he wasn’t through but him and Zayn’s relationship was saved, or it could mean he _was_ through, but their relationship was as well.

He was almost shaking with nerves by the time his name was called, and when he reached the front of the crowd, standing before Zayn, Niall, and Liam, he really didn’t know what to expect.

“Harold Edward Styles, this is the final cuts ceremony, and while we are here to inform you all of the end results, we have decided to give you one more challenge,” Liam spoke, his voice emotionless, but his brown eyes begging Harry for something that Harry wasn’t sure he knew how to do.

What was Liam asking of him?

“Do you think you deserve to be in Delta Kappa Epsilon? Do you want to be, truly _want_ to be, in DKE? And explain both answers,” Niall asked, his own blue orbs speaking volumes, but once more, Harry wasn’t sure just what they were asking.

He paused, looking from Liam to Niall to Louis before finally landing on Zayn.

The questions were almost support to his earlier thoughts, when he was thinking that he didn’t deserve to be a part of the brotherhood.

He opened his mouth, and replied the only thing he could think of, because it was Zayn, he had to choose Zayn, and this was their way of making sure he chose Zayn.

“No, I don’t deserve to be in DKE because I don’t have anything to offer, at least not in the way others do, and I don’t want to be because, well, frankly, it isn’t in the brotherhoods’ best interest.”

He obviously answered wrongly, though, because Liam and Niall were both looking at him disappointedly and Zayn was looking at him with a distinct expression of hurt.

“You just don’t _see_ it, do you?” Zayn asked quietly, but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear and Harry was flushing, a little embarrassed. The older lad was looking at him intently, the pained expression on his face speaking all of his emotions. “Everyone knows it except you, Haz, and I have half a mind not to let you past this last challenge, just because you don’t think you deserve to be in DKE, because you don’t see how _special_ you are. But fuck, I can’t imagine not having you here, so we had decided that it’s up to you. Forget about my ultimatum, forget about me, forget Louis, forget Liam and Niall, and think about _you_. Answer the second question again, but this time, what do _you_ want?”

Harry stared back, his mouth agape and jade eyes a little watery because Zayn was saying that he was almost cut and also saying that he didn’t want Harry to be cut, and all Harry could think in that moment was that he’s never wanted anything, _anyone_ , more than he did in that moment, so he told Zayn so.

“I want it, Zee. I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life.”

And Zayn knew from the flash of determination and love in Harry’s eyes that the younger boy wasn’t just talking about the frat or the initiation or the pledge or even his best friend, but he was talking about _them_ , what they had built up over the pledge quarter; this thing, the Zayn and Harry, Haz and Zee; the feelings of protection and care and wonderment and awe; the brotherly bond that was so fucking far from brotherly and was like a cord, strung between them both, bringing them together until neither quite knew where one began and the other ended.

Harry was talking about this _love_ that they had built, and yeah, that made Zayn happy, beyond happy, elated, and all he could do was smile back at Harry, the feeling of _lovelovelove_ building up deep and slow in his chest, and he gladly spoke the next words.

“Well, welcome to Delta Kappa Epsilon then, Harold Edward Styles.”

~O~


End file.
